The Night Of The Missing Children
by Andamogirl
Summary: Artemus Gordon is sent on a solo mission to the Montana Territory in the heart of winter (and will be joined later by James West), to the Crow Indians reservation to find out what happened to 21 children kidnapped there. Adventures in the cold wilderness ensue.
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE MISSING CHILDREN**

 **By Andamogirl**

Author's note: season 3.

References to my stories The Night of the Comanche Moon and The Night of the Deadly Showboat.

Reference to The Night of the Freebooters, The Night of the Golden Cobra, The Night of the Big Blast, The Night of the Man-Eating House, The Night of the Lord of Limbo, The Night of the Colonel's Ghost, The Night of the Bogus Bandits The Night of the Bubbling Death & The Night of the Firebrand.

 _President Grant_ _: Don't shoot, boys. The country's got problems but this isn't the way to solve them._

TNOT Arrow.

Warning: cuddling & snuggling & kissing and some nudity.

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

WWW

 **TEASER**

 _Wyoming Territory_

It was bitterly cold.

Chilled to the bones, Artemus Gordon pulled the collar of his thick warm coat up tight and kicked the flanks of his horse, setting Lockpick in motion.

He was leaving the small town of Ranchester when the snow began to fall, dense in the frosty chill of the wind battering his face which was already red raw from the freezing temperatures. He regretted having forgotten his scarf, as he could have used it to protect his mouth and nose.

He sighed heavily with lack of enthusiasm, his breath misting instantly in the frigid air.

It was going to be a long way to the Crow Indian reservation – which he would reach in two days minimum or three days maximum, depending on the weather (whether it would improve or worsen) and unforeseen obstacles like fallen trees on the way, frozen and therefore very dangerous rivers to cross, bridges in bad condition, ready to collapse, not to mention hungry wolves, hungry mountain lions too because buffalos and Elks were rare now... and he hated long rides ending inevitably with saddle sores and back pains, he mused.

He touched his bearded face white with snowflakes and scratched his chin – it itched - regretting again having forgotten his portable shaving kit which was in his sleeping compartment. But he remembered how President Grant had wanted him on the way as fast as possible, because the situation was very serious, urgent, and he had complied.

He alone – not Jim and him. Of course Jim wasn't happy to stay behind, but he knew that he had more experience with Indians, knew how to deal with them. He was an adopted Comanche after all. President Grant knew that too and counted on it, he added in his mind.

He had left the Wanderer in quite in a hurry… before he could shave the (real) beard already existing on his cheeks that he'd let grow the previous three weeks when he was on leave at his mother's home, in Green Hill, too lazy to get rid of it. He had done nothing for almost a month, recovering from an utter (and almost deadly) exhaustion, spending his time in his bed, cat-napping, dozing, sleeping deeply, and in between reading and drawing and eating his mom's delicious cuisine. His mother, he remembered with shame, had to force him to leave his bed once in a week to go take a bath – but he had not shaved, it required too much energy… Energy he had barely had, he reflected.

He had said goodbye to Jim and left the comfort of the Wanderer one week ago in Denver where the train had been stuck in the railroad yard for repairs. He was now riding toward Crow Agency, located in the western reaches of the Yellowstone River Valley, north of the Absaroka Range of Mountains, in the Montana Territory.

Snow covering both he and his horse – his hands and feet turning into ice blocks – Artie continued his musing: three weeks ago twenty-one Crow children had been kidnapped from the reservation in the middle of the night and had vanished without leaving any traces apart from those left by the kidnappersin the form of shod horse hoofprints. This had led the tribe to conclude that the kidnappers were white men. His mission was, One, to find out what had happened to the children, Two, to find them, and Three to bring them back to the reservation along with the group of Crow warriors who had followed the traces let by the kidnappers,. They had done so with the blessing of Black Bear the leader of the Crow band of Otter Creek whose settlement was west of the Powder River Basin, into the western portions of the Yellowstone Valley, Montana Territory., They had not, however, obtained federal authorization from the US Bureau of Indian Affairs. That group of Crow (Apsáalooke - "children of the large-beaked bird" - in their own language) warriors had entered the Big Horn Mountains called Iisiaxpuatachee Isawaxaawuua in Crow language, outside the reservation and had scared the people living there. A few Indians had been killed as well as a few fur trappers and buffalo hunters defending the settlers. Patrols from the US Army posts placed along the boundaries with the other territories and Canada had searched for the children everywhere but hadn't found anything. People living in the area had quickly formed small groups to locate and kill the AWOL Indians they considered as intruders and enemies. Soldiers of the U.S. Army post of Fort Brennan close to the reservation limits tried to find them too. In order to accomplish his assignment Artie needed to talk to Black Bear as soon as possible. He had to persuade him to recall his braves and stop the bloodshed. If Black Crow refused, Grant had authorized him to promise the Crow leader something that would persuade the old warrior to change his mind. The President was determined to do everything possible for his 'peace policy' with the Indians to hold.

President Grant had sent him to investigate and meet Black Bear in the Crow reservation, because Artie knew him personally. He had met Black Bear five years earlier during a peace treaty between he and his warriors and the Lakota war chief Little Fox and his warriors at Fort Laramie. It was one of his first missions as an agent of the Treasury Department – under Grant's direct orders. Grant had asked him to escort Colonel Samuel D. Sturgis commander of the 7th Cavalry to that peace treaty, to protect him and to be _his eyes_ there. He wanted to be informed of everything as soon as possible. The President had indeed started an Indian peace policy initially to reduce frontier violence.

Artemus interrupted his thoughts, blinking flecks of ice from his eyes and kicked Lockpick into gallop and the gelding complied, galloping along the icy snow covered path.

He resumed his musing: one night, while Sturgis and his officers had dinner in the mess in complete safely, he had left the fort to go to the Crow's campsite. He knew that the Crow were generally friendly with the settlers, and he hoped to meet Black Bear, to speak with him. Everything related to Indians fascinated him, their language, their traditions, their religion... Black Bear had welcomed him under his tepee and they had talked about everything Crow-related till dawn and the war chief of the Crow had become his friend.

He interrupted his thoughts again feeling his face sting, burnt by the cold.

He noticed that the snow had almost stopped. There were only a few stray flakes dusting the all-over-white freezing nature around him. The temperature had dropped drastically and the biting cold wind had picked up, blowing layers of accumulated snow all around.

He let out a curse as he realized with deep worry that the snowstorm was transforming itself into an ice-cold blizzard and realized too with dread that he could get lost at the foot of Big Horn Mountains, in the Big Horn forest in sub-zero temperatures.

Lost!

He forced down the panic that threatened to rise within him. Many people died lost in blizzards, he thought, "Artie, you need to find a shelter and to get warmed up soon or else you'll freeze to death."

He looked around him, squinting.

He thought about his partner – sitting in the warm and comfy parlor car of the Wanderer in Denver, waiting for his return, home. "Lucky you, I'd like to be at your side Jim, petting my cat, holding a steaming cup of coffee in the other hand - and not traveling in this icy wilderness", he said. His teeth chattering he whispered, "If I come back alive…" he halted his horse and unclasped his frozen-stiff fingers from the reins to flex them. He had lost feeling in them, in spite of his gloves.

His toes had gone numb too. His bones felt heavy and he was very tired and his breathing had started to slow down.

He was bordering on mild hypothermia, he thought distractedly.

He slapped his face, hard, several times. "Stay awake!" then he shook his hands, trying to get the blood flowing in them again. He shaded his eyes against the snow, but the blizzard was so thick that he couldn't see further than the top of his horse's head. He could hear the trees creak, their shadows swaying, shaken by the strong wind and clusters of accumulated snow fell to the ground with loud noises.

He reached forward and patted the chestnut's neck. "Find us a shelter, Lockpick."

Lockpick who had a better view headed forward. Artemus let him go. His horse was very intelligent and like him wanted to be sheltered from the snow & blizzard.

The horse trotted for a couple of minutes toward a gray mound and stopped in front of a crevice, formed between two large rocks forming an arch and topped with lodge pines piled with snow and covered with frozen icicles hanging from the branches.

Grinning Artie tapped Lockpick's neck. "That's a good boy!" he said, his teeth chattering in the blizzard as the chill pierced his face like needles.

Artemus grimaced. His body felt cold as ice and he was sure that his skin was turning blue and his energy was fading by the second.

He dismounted in slow motion, his whole body trembling, and he headed there as the light of the day was dimming rapidly.

It was the middle of the afternoon and it was almost dark. The snow crunched beneath his feet; before they sank into it as it was so deep that it was reaching just past his knees. Taking the reins, he headed to the small place first, gun in hand. It could be the den of a wild animal, a bear, a mountain lion or a lone wolf.

But fortunately it was empty.

Relieved, Artemus led Lockpick toward the opening.

Luckily there was just enough room for him and his horse, he reflected.

The horse neighed feeling cramped and Artie nodded. "I know, it's not your warm and comfy stable and I miss the Wanderer too, big boy." Once he was sheltered from the raging blizzard he shook off the snow from his clothes and used his hand to brush it from his horse. Then he sat on the icy ground, leaning against the icy rock wall, his entire body shivering in violent spasms. "We're going to stay here till tomorrow morning, Lockpick, waiting out the rest of the storm," he said to his beloved horse.

The gelding lowered his head and Artie stroked his horse's forehead where a white mark formed the shape of a lock pick.

Lockpick nuzzled Artie's hand with affection. "That's a good boy."

He pulled the collar of his coat up tight again. The coming night promised to be cold. Fortunately Lockpick would keep him a little warm in that small place, he thought.

His teeth chattering, he pulled his knees up against his chest to keep warm but couldn't stop the shivers making his whole body tremble in an attempt to generate heat.

He looked outside between the legs of his horse. Snowflakes were swirling madly in the wind and the wind was howling. The blizzard was reaching its full force. "You saved us both by finding this place, Lockpick," he said, feeling the wetness from his clothes on every inch of his cold skin. He grimaced, not sure that he had any blood left in his extremities.

It was almost dark outside now, he noticed.

Beginning to feel a little less cold thanks to Lockpick's body heat, the howling wind acting like a lullaby, he moved on his side and curled up in a ball.

He closed his eyes and, very tired, he was deeply asleep a split second later… forgetting the snow tempest which continued to freeze the outside world to a standstill.

WWW

 _The next morning_

Artemus Gordon woke up at dawn, stiff and cold and disoriented.

He shook the cobwebs from his brain and was welcomed by his horse nuzzling his hair. "Hiya Lockpick," he said, smiling, rubbing the gelding's big velvet muzzle.

The horse huffed in pleasure.

He stood, wincing, his aching joints creaking. "Oh boy! That's why I don't like humidity and cold – at all. I have pain in all my joints… ow! And I'm not getting any younger either." He sneezed twice and shivered. "And I am going to catch a cold… just great!" Yawning, he rested his head against Lockpick's long, flat, forehead. "It's time to leave my boy; we still have got a long way to go – unfortunately."

The horse nodded before moving back.

Once outside, Artie was relieved to find out that the snow was falling lightly and the blizzard died down. The orange sky was cloud-less and it was freezing.

Frozen and sore Artie was leading his horse away from the edge of the forest when the snow finally stopped, and a pale sun appeared through loud grayish clouds.

Suddenly Lockpick's ears pricked up and swiveled warily, then fidgeted fretfully.

He nickered in alarm.

His sixth sense ringing 'danger! Danger!' bells Artie was instantly on full alert. He asked, "What is it boy?" then he immediately thought: 'Wolf or mountain lion' and his back stiffened.

A few seconds later there was a low growl and the gelding moved prudently to the side.

Then a massive mountain lion appeared on top of a big flat rock. It cocked its head at him, and began prowling forward, snarling.

Frowning in alarm, Artie immediately lowered his hand toward his revolver but the intense cold was making everything slower.

He wasn't rapid enough. He didn't have time to be afraid . The mountain lion jumped him before he could un-holster it.

Lockpick squealed in fright and recoiled violently.

Man and feline crashed to the hard iced snow-covered ground a couple of seconds later.

Landing heavily on his back, Artemus rolled back in a reflex to avoid his horse's stamping hooves. Then his vision blurred and everything went black for a few seconds.

Unconscious, he didn't see a golden eagle leave the top of a lodge pine, starting to make circles in the crisp air above him, rising in the air.

Lockpick reared and frightened, he fled, following his instinct, galloping away from the predator before it could maul him.

Letting the horse flee, the mountain lion circled Artie, lying motionless on the thick blanket of snow, hungrily eying the human who had entered his territory.

Slowly, Artemus regained consciousness and tried to blink the black spots out of his vision. Hearing a growl, he remembered what had happened – in a split second.

"Oh God…" he breathed, feeling a spike of fear hit his pounding heart.

Before Artemus could reach his gun, the big feline was on top of him, pinning him, its front paws crushing his chest and the claws of its hind legs digging into his thigs. He cried out in both pain and fear when the mountain lion's sharp claws sliced his arms and hands as he tried to push the animal back. Soon his sleeves and gloves were shredded and bloodied.

Then the powerfully-built beast bit its prey's neck, sinking his sharp teeth into Artemus's flesh, inflicting puncture marks on his shoulders, through his thick, heavy coat. Artemus screamed as he could feel the warm liquid running down his neck. When the wild animal belabored his chest with its claws, he arched and screamed again, louder and with more pain in his voice – still doing what he could to fight the mountain lion. But he was losing his strength rapidly, growing weak, affected by the pain and the shock and the blood loss.

Somehow Artemus managed to punch the big feral cat in its nose and the beast moved back in one jump with a loud mewl of displeasure and began again to circle its prey – growling menacingly, showing its sharp teeth dripping with blood – licking them.

Artie's lungs burned as he gasped for frigid air. He curled in on himself, trying to protect himself the best he could, biting on his lip hard enough to draw blood as the excruciating pain was sending stabs of white-hot agony up and down his upper body.

It was an instinctive reaction – and a futile one.

His head swimming, Artie shut his eyes, knowing that he won't re-open them , at least not here, in this world, he thought.

He was going to die, he mused, calm and resigned to his fate. He would be dead soon. He didn't fear death – death was part of his life for a long time now, since he had enrolled in the Union Army. He had accepted that one day he'd die brutally.

But what was upsetting him was the way he would die. Being eaten alive – devoured - by a wild beast wasn't of course part of his top ten list of favorite ways to die instantly and painlessly. His number one being a bullet in his heart. Number two, in his head.

Both quick and painless.

Being stabbed in the heart came in third position. It would be quick and painless too.

He drifted off, slipping away, his body chilled to his core, numb, weakening even more.

He distantly hoped someone would find his body and bury what would be left of him after the mountain lion has feasted on its flesh and bones.

His body felt heavy, like he was slowly turning to a block of ice.

His mind was clouding. His last thought was, 'Sorry Jim, you're gonna need a new partner'. He went limp, as his vision whited out and his eyes closed.

The mountain lion growled, showing fangs, its muscles coiled to spring.

Tbc.


	2. Act One

**THE NIGHT OF THE MISSING CHILDREN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

Unconscious, Artemus Gordon didn't hear the mountain lion let out an angry hiss.

He didn't see it let go before leaving at top speed as an arrow brushed its fur, vanishing behind a group of lodge pines.

Kneeling beside the seriously injured white man, a young Crow warrior touched Artemus's shoulder nudging him softly.

He waited for an answer, but received nothing.

He pressed two fingers against the injured man's throat covered with blood and nodded. "He's still alive," Black Wolf said. He looked up at his older brother standing two steps away from him, bow and arrow ready in case the mountain lion came back. "We have to take him to the campsite. Half-Moon will save his life."

Red Eagle frowned. "Why? He's a white man. I don't care about white men."

Black Wolf insisted. "I do. They're not all bad. Black Bear has white men amongst his friends. He's bleeding a lot; we don't have time to build a travois to transport him."

Suddenly they heard the high, shrill call of the eagle they had spotted in the sky earlier, making circles and intrigued by its behavior had followed it… here.

They looked up at the golden eagle stooping towards them in a rapid glide. The majestic and sacred bird landed gracefully on the top of a high tree. The male golden eagle let out short calls while opening his broad wings wide, then it flew away headed back toward the immense sky.

Suddenly they both heard a neigh and saw a horse come out from behind a group of lodge pines. Lockpick stopped beside his master and sniffed his face.

He whined in distress.

Black Wolf gently raised the white man in his arms and hoisted him across his saddle. He secured him there with a rope.

He jumped on his own horse and took Lockpick reins. He watched his older brother mount his horse. "Let's head back to the campsite!"

WWW

 _The Wanderer, at the same time_

Jim opened the Denver Herald and removed the entertainment pages to give them to… Artemus. It was an automatic gesture he had made for years now.

But the chair in front of him was empty. Artemus wasn't there.

As he put the special pages back in place Jim began to muse: He always thought that Artie was going to return any minute now, but he would not return before several weeks. He missed his companion – a lot. He was lonely, accustomed to having Artie at his side. Solo missions were extremely rare. Artemus and he were together – most of the time.

He frowned suddenly feeling oppressed, a sensation of dread curling in his stomach and continued his musing: Artie's mission was a long and dangerous one. He wouldn't be at his best friend's side if he needed help and Artemus Gordon was a magnet for trouble…He had been reluctant to let Artie go alone on that assignment, feeling that something bad would definitely happen. But President Grant's orders were clear. Artemus had a mission – a very important mission that only he could accomplish, and he had to stay there, in the Wanderer, in case the President needed him on another assignment. His intuition never deceived him... something bad would happen to Artie.

He gasped as an involuntary shudder traveled up his spine and he paled, feeling icy cold. He swallowed around the knot in his throat, gooseflesh rising on his skin.

He knew then that something _very bad_ _had happened_ to Artemus. His mouth went dry with fear: Artie was in danger.

He knew it.

Artie needed help.

He let out, "Artie! I'm coming buddy."

He dropped the newspaper on the table and stood.

He took the end of the speaking tube, hidden in the faux-fireplace but true emergency exit, and called the fireman, "Henry! I want the Wanderer repaired now!"

Then he moved toward the telegraph key to send a message to Colonel Richmond to tell his CO what he intended to do.

He would be disobeying the President's direct orders, but knew that Grant wouldn't court-martial him and send him to a federal prison for the rest of his life.

He loved Artemus Gordon like he was his own son. He would encourage him to follow his intuition and to go to the rescue of his partner.

He opened the box of faux-books and pulled out the telegraph key.

WWW

 _Later, under Half Moon's tepee_

Half-Moon, the Crow Medicine Man, called Akbaalia (healer), knelt beside the injured white man lying on a nest of thick blankets along the border of the shelter, beside the fireplace, from which smoke escaped through a hole in the top of the buffalo skins tepee.

He looked terrible. His mouth was slightly open, his breath labored. Blood was everywhere, seeping through the other man's torn clothes and dripping into the thick wool.

The medicine man touched Artemus's throat with two fingers. The white man's pulse was strong but erratic. He touched his brow then and found the skin there damp and very hot.

Half-Moon frowned searching through his memory. He knew that face… never forgot one. But he couldn't place it. Yet.

He pulled off his wet coat, his thick cowichan sweater and shirt all shredded and stained with blood dropping them in a pile on the buffalo-fur-covered floor. Then he removed the white man's boots, socks and after that undid the pants clinging to his legs. Once he had removed everything damp with water and blood, which is everything but his long warm underwear, he finally pulled off Artemus's long-johns, to have access to the other man's injuries. He noticed that the white man's arms, hands and chest were deeply sliced and he had a nasty bite in his neck and puckered holes in his thighs.

The lacerations were weeping and inflamed still bleeding sluggishly and had started to bruise around the edges, he noticed.

Looking up at Red Eagle and Black Wolf standing at the entrance of the large tepee, he said, "He's strong and stolid, he has a small chance to survive." He waved to Black Wolf. "Come here, Black Wolf, you're going to help me. Red Eagle, see what you can find on our guest. Search his clothes." And he pointed at the pile of ruined clothes sitting beside him.

Black Wolf knelt beside the white man, stark naked, lying on a blanket, his pale skin a contrast with all the bright red blood smudging his body, and took the water bag made from a buffalo stomach and a cloth that Half-Moon handed him. "What do you want me to do?"

Half-Moon replied, "Clean him, while I'm preparing a disinfecting potion."

Nodding the young warrior took the water bag and poured a little water on the fair skin, sprinkled with goosebumps and used the cloth to gently rinse the blood still seeping from the wounds, dabbing them here and there where the blood had already dried.

Moaning in pain, Artie stirred and regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and he grunted before clenching his teeth. He breathing grew ragged as he felt something – no someone (fingers and cloth were sliding on his body) twitching at every painful contact with his wounds. Through blurred vision, he saw a kind of shadow light silhouette of a man who – he realized - was cleaning his numerous wounds with water sending seemingly endless waves of pain through him by doing that.

His whole body hurt! His whole body was on fire! "St-st-stop! Sto-stop!' he sputterred out, batting the Indian's hands away. "Plea-se," he croaked as tears rolled down his pale cheeks.

Black Wolf stopped – but Half-Moon shook his head, so he continued his task.

Switching from his own language to English, Black Wolf said, "You're safe. My brother and I brought you to our campsite. Half-Moon the Medicine Man is going to heal you. You're going to be alright. Just stay calm and rest."

His vision becoming clear, Artie stared at a young Indian of about 20 bent toward him, wearing two hair pipes made from beads on both sides of his long hair. "Okay… resting." Closing his eyes weakly, he whimpered, his meagre energy sucked out.

Red Eagle lifted a wallet. "I found something, Half-Moon," he said in his language, before pulling out an official identity card. "He's name is Artemus Gordon, he's…"

Half-moon nodded. "Working for the Government," he interrupted the warrior. "I knew that I knew his face. I met him years ago. He's a friend of Black Bear."

Black Wolf gently moved Artemus onto his stomach to have access to the back of his neck and the white man, barely conscious whimpered pitifully.

The young Indian gasped in surprised seeing Artie's back crisscrossed with scars… and touched the ones left by the eagle's talons. "Look!" he said, amazed – and impressed.

Both Half-Moon holding his herbal concoction in a buffalo hide pouch and Red Eagle joined the younger man pointing at the rounded scars.

Half-Moon nodded. "I had heard stories about great Crow warriors being marked by a dúuptakoische (eagle in Crow language), but never saw such marks. That man was marked by the dúuptakoische, sacred messenger between Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people. The dúuptakoische did that to show everyone seeing those marks that Akbaatatdia is protecting that man."

Red Eagle nodded. "There was a golden eagle flying in the sky when Red Eagle and I found the white man and chased away the iishbíia (mountain lion in Crow language) which had attacked him. It was flying above him, signaling where he was," he said.

The healer nodded. "It means that the dúuptakoische is protecting him too. He led you to that man and you saved his life. The dúuptakoische protects greatest warriors only…"

Black Wolf frowned and looked down at Artie's grimacing and sweaty face. "What? Greatest warriors? But he's not a warrior, he's a white man. How is that possible?"

The Medicine Man shook his head. "Akbaatatdia has its reasons – and I don't know them." He bent towards the white man's lower back to observe the small eagle-shape black tattoo which was there, between his shoulder blades. "He has a tattoo signaling that he was adopted by a band or a tribe… it's a Comanche design, I recognize it. He's an adoptive Comanche. He was probably tattooed after the eagle marked him – as a souvenir of that glorious day. He probably has a non-white name too." He rolled Artie on his back and cupped his face observing the features behind a week's worth of stubble. "I remember him telling stories to Black Bear, of when he was an officer during the great war… He fought many battles – and earned those scars."

Black Wolf looked down at the injured white man with awe. "He's really a great warrior." He smiled. "I'm sure that the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above sent this man to help us."

Red Eagle looked down at Artie's prone form. "No, what that man wants is to talk to Black Bear to persuade him to recall us."

Red Eagle frowned. "He could?"

Half-Moon shrugged. "I don't think so, but I'm not taking the risk." He pointed at the unconscious man. "He won't see Black Bear; he'll stay here, with us."

Half-Moon nodded. "Red Eagle is right. We can't let him persuade Black Bear. We must find the children, even if we have to start a war against the white people. But you're right too, Black Wolf. He's here to help us – but we don't know how, yet." He poured his disinfectant on Artie's neck injury first.

His eyes fluttering open again, Artemus groaned, his eyes darting around the place. He recognized Black Wolf's face framed by two hair pipes made from beads hanging on both sides of his hair and whispered his voice sounding weary and beaten, "You… Crow… warrior?"

Smiling the young warrior nodded and spoke in English again, "Yes, I am a Crow warrior. My name is Black Wolf. I'm the younger son of White Crow, the chief of the Crow warriors." He placed his hand on his older brother's shoulder. "And this is my older brother, Red Eagle."

Artie noticed that Red Eagle was wearing his hair differently than his brother: he was wearing his hair in two braids wrapped in the fur from a beaver. He had two eagle feathers, one tied to his hair on the back of his head, and the other resting on the top of his shoulders.

Half-Moon wore his hair in two braids wrapped in the fur from an otter and he had a bison scalp headdress with horns and beaded rim.

He introduced himself, in English, "I am Half-Moon; I'm the Akbaalia, the medicine man."

Slowly turning his head towards the older Indian Artemus licked his chapped lips and said, "Need… meet… Black Bear."

Half-Moon nodded. "You will, later," he lied. "I need to heal you first. What is your non-white name? I saw your tattoo. It's Comanche. Only Comanche wear tattoos like that. You are an adoptive Comanche."

Licking his broken lips again, tasting blood there, Artie croaked, "Strong Bear…" he said, then, exhausted he passed out.

Black Wolf smiled and in Crow language said, "Strong Bear… it's a strong name. I met a group of Comanche once from the southern plains, far away. I was a little boy. They traded horses with my father."

Half-Moon nodded. "I know. I was at his side. Comanche are great warriors." He poured the herbal liquid disinfectant on Artemus's chest then and Artie immediately regained consciousness, small moans escaping his lips.

He grunted and tried weakly to push away the Medicine Man. "Enough… hurts." He glanced at his trembling and deeply lacerated hands and murmured, "Love cats… Had a cat when I was a little boy… called White Socks. He often scratched my hands… But this… this is butchery. "

Half-Moon nodded and shifted to English. "I treated your wounds with a disinfectant to fight the infection and your wounds will heal, and there won't be any scar left thanks to a special healing ointment I prepared."

Lowering his aching hands a weak smile spread across Artie's face and he said, "I should commercialize those Indians healing ointments. I would make a fortune."

Half-moon smiled and began spreading a thick layer of greasy ointment on Artemus's wounds. The strong, acrid, scent immediately made Artie dizzy and nauseous.

He swallowed the bile welling in his throat.

He grimaced. It stung and itched. He tried to scratch his other hand but the old Crow caught his wrist and pinned it to the ground.

Half-Moon shook his head. "No! You will remove the ointment doing that. Do that again, and I will tie you up, Strong Bear." He took another pouch and brought it to Artie's lips. "Drink, that potion is going to get rid of your fever." He placed Artemus's head on his lap and the white man took a sip and grimaced. "You have to drink all of it," he commanded.

Glaring at the Akbaalia Artie complied reluctantly, grimacing all the way. Once the pouch was empty, Half-Moon moved back, and covered his patient's naked body with two warm blankets. "Now, you have to rest," he said, adding pieces of wood to the fire.

He sat cross-legged beside Artemus and Black Wolf and Red Eagle, all three watching Artemus who closed his eyes, exhausted to his core.

His breathing started to slow and the pain subsided progressively. "Need to talk to… to…" he trailed off his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. Then he slipped into a feverish doze, head lolling to one side, mouth slightly open.

Black Wolf looked at Half-Moon. "Is he our prisoner?" he asked in his mother tongue.

The Akbaalia nodded. "Until we find the children yes, after that he will be free and we shall return to the reservation." He placed a hand on Black Wolf's arm. "As you seem to like him, you will stay with him, be his shadow."

Black Wolf frowned. "You mean his guard?... but, he's protected by Akbaatatdia, the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above, is going to be angry at us."

Red Eagle nodded. "But keeping that man here with us is perhaps a part of Akbaatatdia's high scheme to help us, brother. We don't know."

Black Wolf wasn't convinced, afraid of Akbaatatdia's anger. "Perhaps. But I don't want to be his guard. That man should be respected like a great warrior, be an honored guest, not taken prisoner."

Red Eagle frowned. "You will obey Half-Moon, brother. He's our leader in the absence of White Crow and Black Bear."

Black Wolf nodded reluctantly. "I will obey."

Half-Moon stood. "Red Eagle and I need to discuss our next move to avoid the whites and find the missing children. You stay here and take care of him, cool him down, give him water… I'll be absent for a moment. If his state worsens, come to tell me."

Black Wolf nodded.

WWW

 _Later_

It was the middle of the afternoon when Artemus regained consciousness rasping, "Jim…" then mumbled something incomprehensible.

Immediately Black Wolf, who was sculpting a bird in a piece of wood with his sharp knife, dropped them to the ground. Taking a cloth and a buffalo hide bucket filled with water he moved toward the haggard and feverish prisoner, crouching beside him.

He soaked the cloth in the water, wrung it out then wiped it across Artemus's burning cheeks, forehead and neck, cooling him down. "I'm going to take care of you, Strong Bear," he said, in English. Then he brought a pouch containing water to the other man's parched lips. "You have fever, you need to drink, a lot," and he smiled when Artie sluggishly sipped a little water.

Blinking in confusion, his eyes glazed with fever, Artie pushed the blankets from his body and that simple motion left him feeling impossibly weak. "Need to go… mission." He tried to prop himself on his elbows but he just didn't have the energy. He let out a frustrated grunt, colors and shapes swimming through his vision. "Black Bear… need to talk to him… very important… urgent."

Black Wolf shook his head. "You're injured and you have fever. You can't go anywhere…" He hesitated and reluctantly added, "… And I won't let you go." He touched Artie's forehead frowning in worry at the furnace heat of his skin. "You have a high fever."

Closing his eyes Artie drifted off into a troubled sleep. Black Wolf moved back where he was seated before and re-started sculpting his bird.

Half an hour later Artemus's fever worsened and he mumbled incoherently, sometimes calling "Jim, help me," and talking in a language Black Wolf didn't know.

He started to thrash about.

Deeply worried, the young Crow warrior left the tepee and came back a few minutes later accompanied by Half-Moon.

Half-Moon knelt beside his 'patient'. Artemus was now panting heavily, his face drawn, his eyes watery and clouded with pain. He looked half-dead. He touched Artie's forehead. He was really was burning up, he was shivering, his teeth were chattering.

Black Wolf looked at the Akbaalia with concern. "Is he going to die?"

The old Medicine Man shook his head. "Not if I can help – besides, the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above is protecting him. It won't let him die."

He unwrapped Artemus from the blankets covering him and took a look at his wounds. The one on his neck was angry red and purple and swollen. It was oozing pus. Unmistakable signs of infection.

Moaning miserably Artemus grabbed a blanket and snuggled up under it in a fetal position, his whole body shaken with spasms.

Half-Moon took two buffalo hide buckets and handed them to the younger man. "Bring me snow and ice; I need to cool him down."

Black Wolf left the tepee in a flash and came back a couple of minutes later, holding two buckets filled with snow and ice.

He was ready to pour them on top of the white man – cleared of his blanket and rolled in a trembling ball – when the Medicine Man lifted his hand. "No! This is not the right way to cool him down. His body would produce more heat to defend itself from cold. Put the buckets beside the fire, and when the water is cool, and not cold, we will wrap him in the blankets again and soak them. But first, I have to heal that infected bite…" While Black Wolf placed the buckets beside the fire, he moved towards the other side of the tepee where he had stocked his remedies.

WWW

 _Later_

Black Wolf touched Artemus's forehead. He was still burning up. "His fever is still high," he said to Half-Moon crouched on the other side of the white man.

Half-Moon nodded. "The herbs I placed against the bite are going to get rid of the infection. But it will take some time."

Suddenly Artemus threw his head backward and began panting, eyes wide open and glassy, unfocused. "Nooo, please…" he said with a distressed whimper. "No, you can't be dead… Jim! … No… not traitor… Jim is not a human-bomb… Oh god! What am I going to do without you? You're dead…" Tears rolled to his cheeks. He giggled. "Your coffee is awful… need to clean the galley… maybe some flowers… I want my cat Marmalade…Oh Lily… I love you so much… but your mother's a dragon…"

Half-Moon nodded and explained, "He's going to see things that are not here and talk to persons who aren't here, it's because of the high fever."

Raising his hand Artie touched Black Wolf's jawline. "Beware! There's a tiger… No! He's going to eat you Jim!" he smiled. "A tiger behind the door… That's a good one!" He frowned. "Oh! There's a ghost… Do you believe in ghosts Jim?" He dropped his hand, limply. "She talks…her name's Caroline… We're trapped with rats…" His breathing accelerated and his body was racked with huge shudders. "I'm dead, I was killed… no that's not me, another… me. I died in your arms, Jim. Gettysburg… canon, shells, so many dead, blood everywhere, the grass is red…" He saluted limply and rasped, "Yes, General, Sir… I'm gonna take your place… can't go there alone, it's too dangerous." He chuckled and said, "I'm-I'm an expert marksman with small targets…A crowd gathering out there… yes, two gophers and a jackrabbit." He smiled. "My Great Aunt Maude… best thing is… is to upset-upset the chessboard…" He grimaced and suddenly rolled in a ball, rocking as he pressed his face against his knees, grimacing in pain.

Burying his face in the blanket he was laying on, Artie cried openly. Black Wolf couldn't help but pat his shoulder in a soothing gesture.

Half-Moon stared at the young warrior, smiling. "You like him a lot," he said.

Black Wolf nodded. "I can't explain it. Can you?"

The Medicine Man shook his head. "No, I can't - because I can't read your heart, Black Wolf. But there's a reason, I'm sure."

Little by little Artemus calmed down and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

WWW

 _Two days later_

The loud and long howling of a (close) wolf woke Artemus with a start. He looked around him both confused and disoriented.

He blinked. "Wha…? Not… dead?" he croaked, very surprised to be still alive.

He glanced around him and realized that he was lying on a blanket, protected from the harsh winter weather by a big tepee. It was dim and quiet inside, the silence barely disturbed by the breath of the wind outside and the crackling fire placed in the center of the fireplace.

He heard another noise and turned his head to the other side. He looked up at Black Wolf sitting on one of the buffalo-hide seats which were arranged around the edge of the tepee. He noticed that the young warrior was sculpting a little buffalo and his mother in a piece of soft wood, with his knife.

Black Wolf shook his head, smiling. "No, you're not dead, Strong Bear. The One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above, Akbaatatdia, protects you. It has sent an eagle to show us where you were and we found you. " He leaned forward and felt Artemus's forehead with the back of his hand and said, "You're going to be alright."

Feeling totally drained, Artie smiled too, weakly. "I don't remember telling you my Comanche name… and I don't remember your name either…"

Black Wolf touched his chest. "Shipíte-cheéte."

Artie nodded. "Black Wolf – it's a beautiful name." He smiled seeing that the warrior was very surprised. "I speak Crow language – just a little. Black Bear taught me basic vocabulary a long time ago…" He pointed at the small sculpture. "That's beautiful…" Then he touched his neck and felt a makeshift bandage wrapped around it. He immediately winced. "Ow!"

Black Wolf settled his sculpture on the blanket-covered ground as well as his sharp knife and explained, "The bite got infected and you had a high fever. Half-Moon, the Medicine Man placed special herbs on it and wrapped a cloth around your neck. It still hurts, but your fever is almost gone and you look a lot better, Strong Bear. You're going to be alright."

Artemus smiled. "That's good news." He rubbed his face with a trembling hand. "I don't remember much… just that mountain lion who wanted to kill me and then eat me." He observed his hand – noticing that the gashes were on their way to healing. "I must say that… those Indian remedies are very potent." He looked again at the young warrior intrigued. "You speak English very well…"

Smiling, pleased by the compliment, Black Wolf said, "Thank you. My mother taught me your language. This will allow you to understand the enemy and fight it better, she told me before teaching it to me, when I was little. She's a very wise woman."

Frowning, a bit upset, Artie said, "I'm not the enemy. I have many Indian friends in several tribes and I'm even an adoptive Comanche."

Black Wolf nodded. "I know that, Strong Bear. And we're not at war with the whites… But they took our children, and we want them back. We will do whatever is necessary to find them."

Nodding Artie said, "I understand…" He glanced around him again; surprised that Black Wolf and he were alone in the big tepee. "Where are the others?"

Black Wolf moved closer to the fire and added some pieces of wood to it. "We're alone. They left to find the missing children. I don't know when they will return." Ill at ease, he said, "I was left here to guard you. Half-Moon and my brother Red Eagle don't want you to talk to Black Bear. They think that you could persuade him to order us to come back to the reservation."

His stomach growling suddenly, Artie grimaced and said, "I'm hungry – no, famished," and was surprised when Black Wolf handed him a rawhide bag containing two balls of powered dried buffalo meat mixed with fat and cranberries and chokeberries.

Black Wolf said, "I thought you would." Sliding two folded blankets under Artemus's head, he added; "You're a prisoner."

Biting hungrily into a ball of pemmican, Artie chewed a piece of it, swallowed and said, "I gathered that. But this thing must come to an end – I'm talking about the Crows wandering outside the reservation, about the dead people on each side, about the soldiers searching for you, about a possible war brewing…" famished, he devoured another piece of pemmican and continued, "I was sent here to find the children…"

Black Wolf was puzzled. "You? Alone?"

Still hungry Artie gulped the last piece of Indian food and nodded. "Yes, alone. The children were – apparently, kidnapped by white men and they are probably being detained somewhere outside of the reservation – I don't know where, and I don't know why they were kidnapped, but I do know that – as a white man – I can go anywhere in the whole region to find them – and you can't. That's why, I will find them, even if it takes me weeks. I will bring them back home, to their parents. But first, I have to talk to Black Bear. Crow warriors must return to the reservation." He placed a clammy hand on Black Wolf's arm. "And you're going to help me."

Black Wolf shook his head. "I can't. I can't disobey both Red Eagle and Half-Moon."

Propping himself on one elbow, wincing, Artie said, "You're reluctant to guard me because you know that my mission is the right thing to do."

Black Wolf shook his head, "No, because you have been marked by an eagle _,_ sacred messenger between the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above, Akbaatatdia. The dúuptakoische did that to show everyone seeing those marks that Akbaatatdia is protecting you. You are a great warrior; you should be an honored guest, and not a prisoner."

Seizing the opportunity, Artemus said, "What do you prefer? Being scolded by Red Eagle and Half-Moon or make the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above… angry at you. Because it will, believe me, no, it already is angry. It's protecting me. Offending me, is offending it. Let me go, Black Wolf, come with me, help me and Akbaatatdia will spare you his anger."

Still afraid of Akbaatatdia's anger, Black Wolf nodded. "I'm going to help you."

WWW

 _Fort Brennan,_

 _Much later, at sunset_

Black Wolf slid gracefully off his mustang and offered his hand to Artemus, who dismounted Lockpick with less grace than his young Indian companion.

Immediately three soldiers pointed their rifles at the Crow warrior. Artie immediately moved in front of him, sending the other men his best glare. "He's with me!" he said. "Lower your rifles or I promise you big trouble in short order!"

One of the privates, a massive red-haired man took a step forward, not impressed. He glanced at Black Wolf, contempt reflected on his face. "That Indian should be in his reservation, not here…" Then he looked at Artie from head to toe and he asked, "Who the hell are you to give us orders? I don't take orders from trappers who dress like Crows…"

Barely keeping his cool, pulling his wallet from the inside of his belt, Artie opened it and showed his identity card to the soldier. "My name is Artemus Gordon; I'm a Special Agent of the Secret Service working under the President's direct orders. I need to see your commanding officer."

The private immediately froze and saluted. "Yes Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. I-I couldn't know…" He lowered his rifle and his friends did too. Then he ran toward the CO's office.

Black Wolf looked around him, feeling a bit apprehensive. "It's the first time I enter a fort… All the soldiers are looking at me…" and he moved his hand to his knife.

Smiling reassuringly, Artie said, "They won't do anything to you; relax. They are just curious. Most of them have never seen a Crow…"

Dressed in an immaculate uniform, a Colonel joined his men two minutes later and saluted in his turn. "I'm Colonel Foster, commanding officer of Fort Brennan garrison, Sir." He said then smiled. "Welcome to Fort Brennan, we were searching for you."

Artemus was surprised. "For me?"

Colonel Foster nodded. "Yes, Mr. Gordon. We received a telegram three days ago from your colleague, James West. He thought that you were in grave danger, possibly dying, and asked me to send patrols to find you. It seems… that you were in quite a predicament…"

Artie nodded. "You can say that… Jim's intuition was right, as always. I unfortunately encountered a mountain lion on the way…"

Colonel Foster nodded. "I suggest you to go to the infirmary, Mr. Gordon. Lieutenant Harris is a very good medical officer."

Looking at Black Wolf Artemus said, "Black Wolf is my protégé, Colonel, and thus under the Government's protection too. He'll be respected and treated here like a guest."

Forster nodded. "Of course. By the way, Mr. West, he's on his way here. He should arrive in two days. He's riding day and night…"

Placing a friendly hand on the Crow warrior's shoulder Artie grinned, very happy at the news. "I'm going to wait for him… in your infirmary." His legs buckled under him. He was fading, fast. His strength sucked out. He closed his eyes and drifted to blackness.

Black Wolf caught Artie in his arms before he hit the cold, icy ground and lifted the other man in his strong arms as if he weighed nothing.

He shivered. The temperature was dropping fast. It started to snow.

Tbc.


	3. Act Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE MISSING CHILDREN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 _Fort Brennan infirmary_

Feeling something touch his hand, Artie slowly opened his eyes blinking away the blur from his vision. Jim was there, sitting on the edge of the bed – holding his hand, grinning. "Hiya… Jim," he rasped.

Pressing Artie's hand in his, Jim said, "Hi Artie. From now on, I'm not going to let you do a solo mission again – _ever_! Grant's orders or not. I almost lost you…"

Pressing Jim's hand in return, Artie croaked, "I suppose you talked with Black Wolf. He told you the whole story, right?"

Jim nodded, "Yes, in detail." He saw his partner look around him and added, "You're in the infirmary of Fort Brennan. The doctor knocked you out for two days – because you needed sleep and he, needed quite some time to patch you up. But the Crow Medicine Man did a great job, he told me, without his help you would be long dead. He even used Half-Moon ointment that Black Wolf had brought with him so that your wounds would heal fast and leave no scar. He likes traditional medicine, finds it fascinating."

Pulling himself into a sitting position with a hiss, Artie noticed that he was dressed in white pajamas and feeling a lot better. Intrigued, he asked, "How did you know I was in grave danger?"

Jim chuckled. "The same way you know that I'm in grave danger buddy and come to my rescue, in a wink, just in time before it's too late." Suddenly deadly serious he placed his hand over his heart. "I sensed it, deep inside of me." He smiled. "Besides, it was my turn to save you, Artie. You did rescue me at the beginning of our mission to get the U.S. Constitution back."

Running a hand through his tousled hair Artie smiled back. "I remember. I paid that man with the whip 20 dollars to have the pleasure of making you pay for what you did to me… I mean to the character I was playing, an outlaw, of course."

Jim chuckled. "I loved your false bottle-smoke bomb Artie."

It was Artie's turn to chuckle. "Me too. Ah! It's good to see you Jim, I missed you."

Jim nodded. "I missed you two buddy…" he said and frowned, deeply worried. His partner's was very pale. He looked crumpled and old. He had dark circles under his eyes and his shaggy beard even had a touched of gray in it. That was new. His neck was bandaged as well as his hands and his chest (he could see a small part of the bandage in the V shaped collar of his pajamas top - testimonies of his recent ordeal. And he knew that his legs had been injured too. "I can't believe that I almost lost you…"

The older man smiled trying to dissipate his partner's somber mood. "Bah! That's not the first time. You know that I'm indestructible… I was lucky though… and protected by the Great Spirit. That mountain lion could have killed me, but I was rescued by Black Wolf and Red Eagle. I had a high fever that can cause brain damage, but thanks to Half-Moon, the medicine man, the old noggin' is intact." He rubbed tired eyes and added, "I probably look awful judging by your expression… but I'm okay, I'm just tired…" His stomach growled. "And hungry. He dragged his fingers through his tousled hair again and sniffed his shoulder. "I think I could use a bath… and to shave that itchy beard too."

Reassured, feeling better, Jim tilted his head. "I think you should keep it Artie… It's a natural protection against cold – and it's cold outside, and you look great with a beard believe me."

Artie nodded. "Hmm. Perhaps, but it's scruffy and itches. I prefer a phony beard, they don't itch. I probably look like my last bearded personage, the French-Canadian trapper Bluebeard, less the bushy eyebrows, and I am a bit less dirty than him."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and it opened a split second later and Colonel Foster entered the room, followed by Black Wolf.

Standing, Jim said, "We have visitors."

Black Wolf bowed his head with respect. "It's good to see you awake, Strong Bear," he said. "I'm pleased to see that you feel better."

Lifting one eyebrow in surprise Foster looked at Artemus. "Strong Bear?"

Smiling Artie said, "It's a long story, Sir."

Foster nodded. "I have sent a telegram to Washington, to Colonel Richmond, telling him what happened to you and about the situation here. Colonel Richmond responded to me." He pulled out a piece of paper from his belt and handed it to Jim.

Taking the message, Jim read, "Proceed according to the assignment. Jim help your partner now that you are there. Greetings from the President. Good luck and be careful." He nodded. "Our orders are clear: the Crow warriors have to go back to the reservation and we have to find out what happened to the children." He looked at Artie, frowning in concern. "Are you up to going?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Artie smiled. "Of course. Nothing like two days of uninterrupted sleep." He touched his white pajamas top then looked at the Colonel. "Perhaps could you give me a spare uniform Sir? I don't care about the rank."

Jim grinned. "A simple private uniform will do. It won't be the first time he's been demoted. He wanted to be a general once, and ended up Colonel – of the Mexican Army. Colonel Hernandez Del Valle Santiago y Sandoval, if I remember correctly."

Colonel Foster smiled. "You're an officer of the Secret Service, Mr. Gordon, what's your rank?"

"Major," Artie responded.

The superior officer nodded. "Major Watson will be pleased to give you one of his uniforms, Major. By chance he's exactly your size."

"Lucky me," Artie said. "I finally won't be demoted."

WWW

 _Later_

Still wearing a shaggy beard, he had finally decided to keep, Artemus Gordon joined Jim and Black Wolf, already mounting their horses.

He was dressed in an impeccable blue uniform, on top of which he had put on an officer's overcoat with sleeve braids denoting his officer's rank: two rows for a Major. He was wearing a regular US Army hat and his new gun was holstered in a regular army holster hanging along the yellow stripe down the leg.

He mounted Lockpick a bit stiffly, winced, and said, "Colonel Foster offered me a gun." He said, seeing the two men looking at it with surprise. "It goes with the uniform."

Holding the reins of Blackjack Jim smiled and said, "The last time I saw you in a uniform Artie – I mean a real uniform - not a disguise, was a long time ago."

Stroking his beloved horse between his ears with a gloved hand Artemus smiled. "Yes, you're right. It was after Appomattox, in Washington, before I resigned my commission to go back to the civil life and to the theater. It was raining and cold – and General Grant offered me one of his cigars to warm me up." He kicked his gelding into motion and moved beside the Crow warrior. "We need you to lead us to the reservation as soon as possible," he said. "You know a rapid and safe way I guess."

Black Wolf nodded. "I'm going to lead you there. But…" He lowered his eyes, looking pained and unsettled. "I will be treated like a… traitor by my own people, like an outcast, rejected by my band."

Placing a comforting hand on the Crow's shoulder Artie said, "Don't worry, Black Wolf; I will talk to Black Bear. He's an understanding man. He'll understand what you did and you won't be cast out and rejected by your band, and you will be praised by your people when you have helped me, after Jim and I find the missing children and in doing so stop the bloodshed between the whites and the Crows. But first, he has to call his warriors back to the reservation."

Black Wolf shook his head. "You won't persuade him to do that."

Patting the Crow's arm Artie nodded. "I will. He will listen to me, believe me. Now let's go, we have a long ride ahead of us."

He looked around him – everything was white and the snowfall was getting heavier and faster with each passing minute.

He urged Lockpick into a trot, following his companions already heading towards the gate of the fort – a bad feeling gnawing at him.

WWW

 _Much later, in a narrow valley_

The snow was so thick that the horses were progressing slowly, making a zigzag between rocks and giant firs covered with icicles.

It was still snowing fat, wet flakes, sticking to everything or anyone they touched. The three men looked like living snowmen.

Black Wolf suddenly lifted his hand and stopped his horse. Jim and Artie did the same with their mounts. "There's a river here, deep," he said, making a white vapor cloud in front of his face.

Removing his hat to remove the thick and heavy snowflakes accumulated here, Artemus said, "It must be frozen into ice." Then put his cavalry couvre-chef back in place.

Black Wolf nodded. "I'm going first, to see if the ice can stand the weight of a horse plus his rider. I hope so, otherwise we'll be forced to turn around and take another longer way." Then the Crow warrior took his horse down along a gentle slope.

Brushing snow from his overcoat, Artemus shivered in the cold despite his warm clothes. "I hate the cold. I'm going to ask President Grant to give us assignments in warm climate territories only, next time I see him."

Jim smirked. "You? You hate high temperatures as well. Remember the last time we were in Nevada? You didn't stop complaining about heat, and sand, and dust and you looked like a red lobster riding a horse in a matter of hours."

Smiling Artie looked at Black Wolf gesturing to him. "I have a fair skin and I burn easily – I should try to invent , an ointment or a cream to protect my skin from the sun, like a sun block. I'm not like you, getting a tan every time the sun shines."

Jim chuckled mockingly, "Says the red lobster-man."

Trading smiles they were approaching the frozen river hidden under snow when they heard galloping noises muffled by snow and Indian cries of intimidation.

They turned around and saw a group of Crow warriors heading their way at top speed.

Recognizing Red Eagle, leading the group, Artemus said, "Let's get out of here!" and he kicked the flanks of his horse; Jim following suit.

Both Blackjack and Lockpick were crossing the frozen river with their riders when the ice broke and shattered beneath the bay horse and Artemus Gordon - with no warning.

Frightened Lockpick slid to the side at the same time the large piece of ice tipped and sank under the water. Artie's startled yelp was cut off as he dropped into the freezing river – Lockpick falling on top of him. He was knocked out instantly and then sank beneath the surface like a stone.

Jim immediately dismounted from his black stallion and rushed toward the big hole in the ice where the quarter horse still struggled to stay afloat, thrashing about in a frantic panic, desperately trying to get onto the still solid ice.

But there was no trace of Artemus.

Lockpick was flailing and lunging about, trying to escape the hole in the shattered ice – ice forming again on the surface, rapidly, it was so cold.

Helped by Black Wolf who had joined him, Jim managed to haul the horse out of the water, and then he removed his hat, gloves and coat in a flash and dived into the icy water.

The water was dark under the thick layer of ice and snow, but Artie had sunk in line with the hole and he easily spotted Artie's oxygen bubbles trail.

Finally, he caught Artemus's limp form floating below him to the bottom of the river, arms outstretched toward the surface, bobbing in the underwater current. He reached out, grabbing his partner's shoulder, then he wrapped his arm around Artie's unmoving chest and tugged him along, kicking powerfully, surging as fast as he could for the surface, struggling against his sodden clothes and Artemus' dead weight.

Because he knew that Artie was dead, his thoughts were tinged with a brief instant of pure heart-wrenching sadness, while lunging for the surface, his lungs aching. But it vanished, as he gained hope. He had brought Artie back to life once, after he had drowned, and he would do it again.

Red Eagle and his companions stopped cautiously – and the Crow warrior was the only one to venture carefully onto the frozen river.

Red Eagle looked down at Black Wolf, "I was sure that I would find you here, it's the shortest way to the reservation," he said.

Black Wolf ignored his older brother and knelt beside the large hole in the ice… noticing air bubbles coming to the surface.

He recovered Artie's hat, floating on the water and put it on the ground, beside him.

Suddenly a hand emerged and Black Wolf grabbed it, before pulling.

Jim broke the surface with a gasp, coughing and spluttering freezing water, gulping for air, holding a limp, lifeless Artemus tightly against him.

Red Eagle lifted his eye toward the top of a pine, spotting an eagle perched there. He remembered that Strong Bear was protected by Akbaatatdia. He wasn't a simple white man – wasn't one of the white men he chose to ignore completely.

He slid off his horse and helped his brother to haul the two white men upward onto the solid ice, both completely soaked – and blue-white.

His teeth chattering, the iciness clinging to every inch of him, racked with shivers, Jim knelt down beside an unconscious, lifeless looking Artemus.

He pressed two trembling fingers against his partner's throat.

No pulse. Artie wasn't breathing.

He immediately opened Artie's mouth tilted his head back, pinched his nose shut and placed his lips to those of the unconscious man blue from the cold.

He started breathing for him, blowing air into him, anxiously watching for the rise of Artie's chest as his lungs expanded.

But there was no movement.

Jim repeated the motion a few times, drawing as much air into his own lungs as he could – but Artie still wasn't breathing by his own. He remained motionless, his face slack, so very pale. "No, no, no!" he said through chattering teeth. "Don't die on me buddy, live please, live."

He placed one hand over the other above his partner's sternum, interlocking his fingers, before beginning chest compressions, hard. One, two, three. Then he leaned back down squashing Artie's nose shut before giving him another breath of air.

He lost track of the number of breaths he gave Artemus, coaxing life back into his lifeless body, but didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He couldn't lose the man he loved like he was his own brother.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Artemus jerked and shuddered. He coughed his way to life, thrashing, his chest heaving, spluttering and vomiting water.

Grinning, immensely relieved and his heart pounding with profound joy, Jim rolled his partner on his side and slapped Artie's back hard as more water rushed out of his mouth. "Yes, that's it Artie! Breathe, breathe, you're safe now."

Then he leaned down, resting his head against Artemus's shoulder, crying with pure undiluted joy and relief. "I brought you back, I brought you back…"

Slowly, Artemus opened his eyes, glazed and confused. He was pale and shaking uncontrollably. Feeling numb he mumbled, "Jim… c-c-cold. M' so c-cold."

Shivering too, Jim wiped his tears with the back of his shaking hand and said, "Yes, I'm cold too." It was so cold that Artie's body and his were soon covered in frost, he noticed. Then he saw that Artie's eyes had lost focus. "Artie!"

Closing his eyes Artie said, "I had a bad fee… ling. I… I…" His teeth were chattering so much that he couldn't speak any longer. He curled himself into a fetal position and then he blacked out.

Black Wolf looked up at his older brother and said firmly, "There's a cave on the other side of the river, we're going to head there. My friends need to warm up. We won't go anywhere until tomorrow morning. Then we will go to the reservation to see Black Bear."

Red Eagle told his men to go back to the camp in the deep forest and they turned back and Black Wolf was surprised. "I was angry at you when I found the tepee empty, Black Wolf – and so was Half-Moon. You had left with Strong Bear. But I realized that we needed more warriors to fight the whites and to find the children. So I headed back to the reservation with ten warriors, taking the shortest way to the reservation, knowing that I would find you here…"

Black Wolf frowned, upset. "And you found us…"

Red Eagle nodded. "Yes, I found you. Black Bear will listen to me – and not Strong Bear, and he'll give me more warriors."

Jim looked up at the two Crow warriors. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Artie and I we don't want to die from hypothermia. Where's that cave? We need to build a fire."

WWW

 _Later in the cave_

Black Wolf started a fire with the help of a pile of broken branches he had picked up on the ground, knocked down by heavy snow, and a box of matches Jim had in his saddle bag.

His fingers still numbed by cold, Jim clumsily removed Artemus's soaked gloves and boots, then the rest of his waterlogged and frozen stiff clothes one by one, dropping them to the ground, revealing the older man's frozen white skin, , almost a little blue even. Then he rubbed his best friend's head through Blackjack's saddle blanket before starting to dry him off rubbing back and forth softly until his entire body was dry, then he wrapped the shivering naked man in Black Wolf's long, warm saddle blanket. He put one of Artemus's arms around his neck, then slowly pulled him upright and then carried him and laid him beside the flames.

He rubbed Artie's whole white body energetically, with his insensitive hands until he could feel them again thanks to the vigorous friction.

Black Wolf then helped Jim to get rid of his own soaked and frozen clothes, and when the other man was naked, he tucked his elder brother's colored saddle blanket around Jim.

Jim gave a violent shiver. "Thanks."

Black Wolf smiled and then he began dry Jim off.

Sitting cross-legged as close as possible to the fire, huddling in the slightly wet blanket; Jim looked down at his partner who was still passed out.

Artie was so white (except his lips and ears which were blue) he looked like a ghost.

Black Wolf took the dripping clothes and spread them on the ground haphazardly beside the fire before sitting on a flat rock close to Jim. "He's going to be alright," he said. "You saved his life… I had never seen anyone bring a man to life like that."

Still looking at Artie's prone form Jim said, "It's called CPR. CPR stands for cardiopulmonary resuscitation. At least I didn't break his ribs this time, like I did the first time."

Red Eagle, sitting on the ground next to the mouth of the cave, his rifle on his lap was surprised. "You already saved his life that way?"

Moving his hands close to the flames, Jim nodded. "Yes, he had drowned in the Mississippi River, trapped in the cargo hold of a sinking showboat, but I managed to bring him back to life."

They heard a moan coming from Artemus and he opened his eyes.

He frowned, puzzled seeing a forest of very old stalactites over him. He turned his head to the left, slowly, blinking, feeling warmth. "I'm… in Hell?" he croaked watching the flames.

Smiling, Jim placed a comforting hand on his best friend's face, in a brotherly gesture. "No, you're still among the living, you're still alive."

Still frowning Artie remembered the ice shattering and giving way – he remembered falling into the icy river, his horse falling too – on top of him. His head hurt, then nothing. He had lost consciousness and... his features froze. He looked up at Jim, ghastly, heart pounding in his chest, horrified. "I drowned!" Then he breathed out a sigh of relief.

His face somber, Jim nodded. "Yes you did, again… I'm sorry." He patted his partner's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "But I brought you back using CPR, again. You're going to be fine." Feeling numbness vanishing from his hands he added, "And before you ask, Lockpick is fine."

Black Wolf reached over to add another branch to the fire and then helped Artie to sit after he tried to prop himself on his elbows – and failed. "Thank you Black Wolf," he said.

Artemus finally noticed that he was naked again, save a blanket protecting his middle. He noticed too that Jim, naked like him had a blanket wrapped around his hips as well. He smiled. "I think that I'm going to spend half of this mission being stripped naked – and cold." A shiver pulsed through his body and like Jim, he drew his trembling hands to the blazing fire. "Boy! That feels good. I'm starting to feel my legs and arms again…" He offered a large grateful smile to Jim. "I would have died under that ice if it wasn't for you. Thank you Jim, you saved my life again."

Smiling broadly too Jim said, "It's was a pleasure." Then he glanced at an armed Red Eagle sitting next to the mouth of the cave. "Are we prisoners?"

Red Eagle shook his head. "No, the rifle is in case a wild beast enters here for protection from the cold night coming." He glanced outside at the moonlit night then back at Strong Bear. "I will ride with you to the reservation. I will ask Black Bear to give me more warriors to fight white people and to search for the missing children. He'll accept."

Keeping President Grant's promise to Black Bear to him as an ace up his sleeve Artie nodded. "We'll see," he said.

Outside a snow storm was building up as the temperature continued to drop, degree by degree. It had to be below freezing by then.

WWW

 _The next afternoon, at the Crow settlement_

 _On the south side of the Yellowstone, near Otter Creek_

 _Montana Territory_

Black Bear left his tepee.

The two special agents were very surprised to see that the Chief of the Crows had gray hair so long it trailed on the ground. He was wearing an eagle feather headdress and was wrapped in a large robe made from the furred hide of a buffalo, the hair inside.

He was followed by a tall and slender woman, about 40 years old, dressed in men's clothes: breechcloth with leather leggings and a buckskin shirt.

Like Black Bear she was wearing moccasins on her feet.

But she had added a feminine touch to her fringed shirt, Artemus noticed. It was decorated with porcupine quills, beadwork and elk teeth.

She had five eagle feathers in her braided hair.

He couldn't help but notice that she was beautiful and felt his pulse accelerate as he was instantly attracted to her.

Then, puzzled he frowned. Only great warriors wore eagle feathers in their hair. He noticed that she was tall, athletic and had a knife and a tomahawk slid in her belt. 'A female warrior?' he thought. Then he remembered that sometimes a Crow woman, especially a widow, might ride into battle with the men or even become the chief of the warriors and even the leader of theirs bands. The woman had five eagle feathers in her braided hair. He knew then, that that woman was the chief of the warriors.

She addressed a blinding smile to him and a blush heated his cheeks.

Red Eagle and Black Wolf slid off their horses gracefully and headed toward the couple.

Bowing their heads in respect in front of the old Chief, the two warriors then hugged the warrior- woman and she wrapped them in her arms with a love, smiling.

Black Wolf turned around and gestured toward the two white men standing beside their horse. "Mother, these men are my friends, James West and Artemus Gordon. They're both special agents working for the President of the United States." He paused and took the woman's hand in his. "My friends, this is my mother, White Crow, the chief of the Crows's warriors – and Black Bear's daughter."

Jim was very surprised and opened his eyes wide. Artie wasn't, because he had guessed it and he smiled back to White Crow.

White Crow's smile broadened. "You're not the first white men to have that reaction. Yes, I'm a woman – but I'm the best at horse riding, marksmanship, and before we came here, to the reservation, with my warriors, I raided Blackfoot settlements, taking off many horses and many scalps as I am a redoubtable warrior. I can show them to you, if you want. I was feared by my enemies."

Removing his hat politely Artie said," I'm charmed, Madame… I mean White Crow." He smiled again, trying not to blush again like a young boy having a crush on his lovely teacher.

Imitating his partner Jim said, "It's a pleasure."

Black Wolf excited to tell his mother said, "Artemus is an adoptive Comanche warrior and protected by Akbaatatdia. He was marked by the dúuptakoische, sacred messenger between the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above. I saw the scars on his back."

Red Eagle nodded. "I saw them too."

The warrior-woman was very surprised, very impressed then she bowed her head with respect. She moved toward Artemus and touched his overcoat. "I heard about the great Comanche warriors… I didn't know they could adopt white men as warriors."

Smiling Artie said, "It's a long story."

She moved into Artemus's personal space, finding him handsome and intriguing. "I hope to hear it soon. It's the first time I met a 'white Comanche'…in fact, it's the first time I met a Comanche."

Their eyes locked.

She touched the bandage around Artemus's neck as she moved into his personal space. "You are hurt…" She said, brushing his hairy jawline with her fingertips.

He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, blushing again as he felt White Crow press herself against him. "That's nothing… just a scratch."

Jim rolled his eyes for a couple of seconds as Artie and White Crow were flirting openly, now holding hands, looking at each other, their lips mere inches apart, visibly attracted to each other.

Oblivious to the others.

Clearing his throat, focused on his assignment, he said, "Black Bear, we are here on a mission. We'd like to talk with you, it's important."

Red Eagle took a step forward looking at his grand-father. "Don't listen to them. They want to persuade you to bring me and my men back to the reservation. They pretend that they will find the children themselves and bring them back here. If I came back it's to ask you for reinforcements, Black Bear. I need more warriors. I need more warriors to fight against the whites who want to stop us and to extend our search outside of the reservation, on their lands."

Frowning, Jim looked at his best friend who seemed as if hypnotized by the female warrior. White Crow was under his charm too. He noticed their fingers brushed, and that they were so close to each other that their noses were almost touching.

Those two had fallen in love at first sight of each other.

He rolled his eyes again. Mission first, flirting after. "Artie!" he called, snapping his fingers twice.

Surprised Artermus jumped like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar by his mother. "What?... Oh! Er… yes." He took a step back, reluctantly parting from the Crow woman, mouthed "sorry" to her, White Crow nodding, and joined Jim. "We'd like to talk to you."

Black Bear nodded and entered his tepee, immediately followed by White Crow, Red Eagle, Black Wolf and finally by Jim and by Artemus. They took places on the buffalo-hide seats which were arranged around the edge of the tepee, with a fireplace in the center. The big fire gave off a very appreciable warmth which contrasted with the icy air outside.

Jim lifted his eyes following the smoke from the fire. It was escaping through a hole or smoke-flap in the top of the tepee.

Black Bear looked at Artemus and said, "It's good to see you again, Major Gordon. The last time we met was during that peace treaty between me and my warriors and the Lakota war chief Little Fox and his warriors, at Fort Laramie."

Artie nodded. "Yes, and we spent the whole night talking about the Crows… I was fascinated by Indians and I'm still fascinated by them."

Black Wolf nodded and smiled. "And you're a Comanche now."

Pulling his gloves off, Artie shook his head. "I'm only an adoptive Comanche, Black Bear; I'm not a Comanche in the strict sense. To be recognized as a Comanche I would have to mingle my blood with that of a Comanche and I didn't." He paused glancing at White Crow, devouring him with her eyes. He blushed again, but as it was dim inside the tepee, it didn't show, and added, " I bring you the greetings of the President of the United States, Black Bear. President Grant, through me, promises you two things, if you call your warriors back in order to avoid further incidents out of the reservation with the settlers and with the soldiers. First that I will – I mean that Jim and I will find the missing children and bring them back here, safe and sound, and two, that he will give you more long horn cattle to replace the buffalos which have been killed during the latest conflicts – and to replace the deers and the elks that are vanishing too, killed by white men outside the reservation."

Red Eagle frowned, upset, and he said, "Don't accept! We have to find our children ourselves. They are Crows, like us. White men don't have to interfere." He glared at Artemus and added, "And you don't need more cattle! The buffalos returned to our lands."

Raising his hand Artemus declared solemnly, "Jim and I will find them and I will bring them back here. I promise, Black Bear."

Black Bear nodded. "I need time to think about this."

Red Eagle protested. "They can't find the children! How could two men do what 20 warriors weren't able to do? Listen to me…"

White Crow's intervened, "Black Bear will take his decision later. Everyone out!"

Everyone but Black Bear stood and left the tepee.

It was snowing and it was starting to get dark.

White Crow took Artemus's hand in hers. "Come to my tepee for the night."

Blushing, once again, Artie said, "But your husband…"

She smiled. "He's dead. He died a long time ago in a battle against Blackfoot warriors. I'm a widow. Come with me."

Still hesitating Artie said, "But your father, Black Bear…"

Placing her hand on Artie's chest White Crow chuckled. "He has not been interested in my private life since I lost my husband Bear Paw."

Black Wolf smiled, amused, and placed his hand on Jim's arm. "Come to my brother's and my tepee for the night. Don't worry; he's safe with my mother."

His smiled broadened as he thought that his mother was happy again – something that hadn't happened since his father's death.

He knew that Strong Bear would leave, but his mother would at least be happy again for a few hours, it was better than nothing. He was happy for her.

WWW

 _Later under White Crow's tepee_

Both sitting cross-legged in front of each other, on a nest of blankets, Artemus Gordon and White Crow were busy tracing their faces… exploring.

The big fire was roaring and crackling beside them, warming them up, its light casting a warm glow over their features.

The rest of the tepee was in shadows.

They were totally oblivious of the storm raging outside, of the wind which roared and howled, tearing through the night, rattling and banging against the solid tepee.

White Crow brought up her hand and ran her fingertips lightly over Artemus's cheek wondering if the beard would scratch or be soft.

She gently stroked Artie's scruffy facial hairs, feeling the thick but short beard, digging her fingers into it. It was prickly beneath her fingertips.

She smiled and broke the kiss. "I like your beard. Men of my tribe shave their faces," she said, as she tangled her fingers in the curls of Artie's raven hair.

Brushing the woman's cheek with his knuckles in return, Artie said, "I usually shave my face too. But I left my shaving kit on the Wanderer and there's no barber shop between Denver and here, plus it keeps my face warm and Jim thinks I look great with it."

The Indian woman nodded. "He's right. You're very handsome." She touched the epaulettes on his uniform displaying his rank: a gold oak leaf for a major. "It's the first time I bring a white man, a soldier, here in my tepee…"

Smiling Artemus looked around him, noticing the spears, and hide shields leaning against the walls of the tepee, along with a pile of wood to keep the fire going throughout the night. He noticed several scalps hanging here and there on the buffalo-hide walls.

He was impressed. She was a redoubtable warrior indeed, he thought.

Then he looked again at the beautiful Indian woman. "It's the first time I find myself in the company of a woman who's a redoubtable warrior, and the chief of the Crow warriors."

Embracing, they kissed, softly. The hairs scratched at White Crow's skin lightly and she loved the new experience. It was rough but agreeable.

They kissed at a slow pace, enjoying every second of it.

Then White Crow decided to take action. With her hand she cupped the back of Strong Bear's neck, pulling him closer, hard, their lips mashing together in a bruising kiss a split second later, drawing a groan from the white man.

When Artie's tongue probed tentatively at White Crow's lips, she parted them, and Artemus's tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting her.

She moaned, her hands digging into his shoulders and she deepened the kiss.

Finally they parted, breathing hard. Artie scratched his itchy jaw and then playfully ran his bearded cheeks on the underside of White Crow's neck, eliciting goose bumps on his way.

She chuckled and started to unbutton his jacket. "I want to see the marks left by dúuptakoische, sacred messenger between the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above." Once he was down to his shirt, she unbuttoned it in its turn. Then she unbuttoned the top of Artie's long, warm, underwear, rendering him naked from the waist up.

White Crow ran her fingers across Artemus's broad shoulders, then touched the bandage-covered well-formed chest, maintained by a large band. "You're hurt here too, what happened?"

He sighed. "A mountain lion attacked me in the mountains. Your sons chased it away and they saved my life. Half-Moon healed my wounds."

White Crow moved behind him and traced the scars left by the eagle reverently – at least those not hidden by the band. "Did it hurt when the eagle marked you?" then she roamed her fingertips over the tattoo Artemus had on his lower back. "Your tattoo is beautiful…"

He moaned.

She smiled. "It pleases you that I do this…"

He nodded blushing a little. "Yes. The skin is very sensitive … since I was tattooed there. I love it when a woman touches it…" His cheeks returning to their normal color, he added, "To answer your question, I didn't feel anything because I was unconscious at the time. As for my tattoo, it did hurt, a lot. the Medicine Man hand-tapped the black dye – made with animal charcoal produced by charring animal bones – into my skin using sharp stone needles. Then, he removed the dye mixed with my blood with a cloth and the black eagle appeared on my skin… I did my best not to show it was torture, and they appreciated my efforts. For the Comanche, tattooing is part of a process to emphasise in warriors the endurance of pain; and pain they believe brings a closer association with the creator god known as 'Big Father', most commonly identified with the sun. This black eagle is a highly symbolic tattoo and it's linked to religious beliefs. It's a mark of distinction and honor too…"

Feeling White Crow's fingers trailing up and down his spine, Artemus flinched away and pivoted, facing the Crow woman again.

He sighed, ill at ease and said, "Listen, White Crow, I wouldn't want to be impolite, rude, but… "

She kissed his brow in a reassuring gesture. "I know what you're going to tell me. You don't want me. I understand. You're not ready. I know that white men court women, to take their time, get to know the other person before making love… " She roamed her fingers over his bare abdomen drawing random lazy patterns against his soft skin. "We, Crow, have a more direct approach."

Smiling Artemus nodded. "I gathered that. I'm a gentleman, White Crow. I don't make love with woman two minutes after having met her – my mother did not raise me so, and I respect women too much for that - even if she's a pretty woman and I'm really attracted to her." Then he kissed her lips.

She smiled broadly. "You think I'm pretty?"

Caressing White Crow's neck delicately, he nodded. "Yes, you're a very pretty woman and a hell of a warrior, White Crow," he said. "You're not… disappointed?"

The Indian woman shook her head. "No, I understand your reasons and… we're going to see each other again and we can get to know each other better."

So they kissed, and touched, but it didn't go much past that.

Tbc.


	4. Act Three

**THE NIGHT OF THE MISSING CHILDREN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 _The next morning_

Whistling gusts of wind blowing loudly outside woke White Crow.

She felt unusual warmth against her front, something solid, large, a body… and realized that she was lying spoon-shaped against Strong Bear, holding him tight.

She kissed the nape of his neck and Artemus stirred a little. He rolled onto his back, hair tousled from sleep, mouth slightly open, his breathing still even. He tugged the blanket up to his chest in a reflex, huffing, but remained fast asleep.

Propped on one elbow, White Crow ran a finger over her companion's pectorals and then on to his throat, circling his Adam's apple, thinking. It was the first time she had spent the night in a man's arms, kissing, talking and cuddling, and finally sleeping, holding each other, since her husband's death.

It felt good. It felt very, very, good. 'It's also the first time you spent the night with a white man… but he's no ordinary white man… He's Strong Bear, a Comanche _warrior_ , a man who has been marked by the dúuptakoische, sacred messenger between Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people. A man that Akbaatatdia is protecting.'

She trailed her finger on the visible part of Artie's chest, playing with the coarse hairs there, still musing: Strong Bear was a handsome man, and he was a great warrior, like her, and she was attracted to him, would love to claim him… but he wasn't for her, because he wouldn't stay here, but he would leave to continue his work which he considered a sacred mission: to protect the president of the United States from his enemies. But it had triggered desire in her – something she had completely pushed to the side since Bear Paw's death – focusing on her task, closing her heart. It was perhaps time to open it again in order to find love again. Red Fox, her first warrior was tall, broad, strong – the stronger of her warriors. Not interested, she had always dismissed his attempts to get closer to her…

She ran her finger absently down Artemus's belly, circling his navel, still lost in her musing… Red Fox was interested in her. Maybe it was time for her to be interested in him.

She nodded, she would – after Strong Bear left.

He was too irresistible.

Smiling, White Crow slid an arm around Strong Bear's waist and moved closer to his warmth. Artemus mumbled something unintelligible and wriggled a bit before stretching out. Opening his eyes, he let out, "Hi. Good morning…"

Kissing Artie's temple, White Crow said, "Good morning." Then she moved her lips to the spot behind his right ear and kissed it.

She sucked on his ear, tugging gently.

Pressing White Crow against him, Artie murmured, "That's a wonderful way to wake up."

She tucked her head into his neck, into the juncture where Artie' neck met his shoulder, nuzzling, sniffling. Then she placed delicate kisses along Artemus's collarbone.

The skin was soft there. "Mmmm… you smell good." She scooted her body even closer to his and nibbled his shoulder with her teeth, and was rewarded with a moan low in his throat.

Artie smiled. "I could spend the day here, with you in my arms. That feels so good, but..."

White Crow kissed Artie's nose playfully. "But you have a mission," she said, her fingers tangling in Artemus's sleep-mussed hair.

He kissed her back, on her lips, tenderly. "Yes, I have," he said before deepening the kiss, feeling White Crow's fingertips brush against his tattoo.

He moaned in pleasure.

Suddenly the collapsible flap of the entrance hole of the big tepee was pushed aside and Black Wolf entered. He immediately grinned, pleased to see his mother and Strong Bear huddled under a blanket, both lying on a mattress of bison furs settled beside the dying fire.

They were kissing each other, moaning in concert, their fingers intertwined.

The young warrior took a step forward. "I'm sorry to bother you," he said. "But Black Bear has made his decision. He wants to see you."

Artie pulled away from the kiss, catching his breath, and White Crow was panting as well. He glared at Black Wolf.

Black Wolf chuckled, unimpressed. "Hurry," he said, and he left – not seeing his mother pull Artemus in for another kiss.

WWW

 _Later under Black Bear's tepee_

Black Bear was sitting beside the fire which crackled and roared. He was cross-legged framed between his two grand-sons, with Jim standing on the left, when Artemus, dressed in his uniform and overcoat and White Crow wrapped in a long bison fur coat entered the tepee, covered with snow.

There was a tempest outside.

Smiling at Jim, Artie released White Crow's hand and joined his partner. White Crow came to sit beside Red Eagle.

Chief Black Bear looked up at his guests. "I have decided to accept your President's offer. When the storm ceases, Red Eagle will join the warriors waiting outside of the reservation and he will bring them here – along with Half-Moon." He lifted his hand, upset, furrowing his brow, his thick eyebrows knitting together, instantly stopping Red Eagle's protest before he could say anything. "This is my command! You will obey, Red Eagle."

Red Eagle nodded unwillingly. "Yes, Black Bear."

Lowering his hand the leader of the Crows continued, "But there's one condition. I want my grand-son Black Wolf to accompany you. You will need his help to find the children. He'll be under your protection outside the reservation."

Smiling Artemus nodded. "We accept."

WWW

 _Later, in the mountains_

It was the end of the afternoon when the wind and snow began to die down to tolerable levels – and when they reached a small steep-sided valley.

Black Wolf halted his horse and pointed at a town, nestled there. "We never searched here…, " He said. "Look! The valley is well protected as well as the town."

Pulling his field spyglass out of his coat, Jim said, "You have very good eyesight… I didn't know there was a town here… " Then he observed the place. He spotted guards with rifles here and there perched on boulders. "You're right, armed men are guarding the town entrance… and I can see several mine entries."

Scratching his beard pensively, Artie said, "Yesterday evening, while I wasn't sleeping ..." And he ignored the looks full of suggestion from Jim and Black Wolf. "I had an idea through mentally referring again to the maps of the region I consulted before leaving the Wanderer…" He touched his temple. "I have a photographic memory. I have memorized every single town of the region, even the smallest, like this one called Devil's Pit. They all possess a few mines. People here live isolated, see nobody, and for them it is very difficult, even impossible to find people to work in the mines... I think the children have been kidnapped to work in the mines… And they are being kept prisoners somewhere… perhaps in the mines themselves. Let's start with this town."

Jim nodded. "Another of your famous intuitions?" Placing his gloved hand on te butt of his Colt, ready for action, Jim said, "I always trust your intuitions, Artie. They are always right" Looking at Black Wolf Artemus nodded. "And seeing those guards… something tells me that we found the right town on the first try."

Artemus dismounted and opened his saddle-bags. "Yes." He pulled out a private's uniform jacket, a yellow striped cavalry pants and a pair of old boots. "Colonel Foster gave me this, in case I needed to change. You're going to wear this, Black Wolf. Something tells me that the people out there don't like Indians. But if you look like an Indian US Army scout they won't shoot you – especially if he's accompanied by an officer. But you will have to stay at my side."

Black Wolf complied in a hurry, as the air was freezing, and then Artie put the Crow warrior's clothes in the saddle bags, hiding them there.

Black Wolf looked at his legs and feet now US Army uniform-clad. "It's the first time I put white men pants on me and have boots, it's strange," he said.

Artie smiled. "I felt the same when I dressed myself in breechcloths the first time. I felt naked." He mounted PickLock again. "Let's go."

WWW

 _Later, in Devil's Pit_

Major Gordon, riding alongside Black Wolf, followed by Jim, entered the town half an hour later, framed by a group of armed guards.

It was a typical mining town Jim noticed, with some wooden houses covered with snow, a hardware store, a saloon plus rooms to rent, a stable – and nothing else. Plus a lot of mud.

His shiny boots covered with it, Artemus entered the smoky, dirty and noisy saloon first, Black Wolf and Jim in tow.

Miners gathered there immediately froze and gradually stopped chatting.

Silence.

Two men, bearded and filthy, built like mountains, intercepted them on their way to the bar.

The shortest one pointed at the Crow warrior. "No Indian is allowed in the saloon, officer. He's going to have to leave, the saloon and the town," he said, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

Removing his hat, Artie brushed off the snow accumulated on it. "Black Wolf is a soldier of the US Army, a scout. He stays here, with me."

The tallest took a step forward. "What are you doing here, Major? Fort Brennan is located in the opposite direction."

A picture of coolness and composure, Artemus removed his soaked gloves. "I know that, I was heading there when I spotted your charming little town, and instead of sleeping in a cave, in the cold, I thought it would be a good idea to sleep in a comfortable bed."

The shortest man chuckled mockingly. "And your Indian will sleep on the floor, at the end of your bed, like a good dog."

In a split second Artemus, boiling with anger, decked the other man with a powerful punch square on his chin sending him flying against a table.

Jim un-hosltered his revolver as people stood up.

Once again calm and composed, Artemus looked at the other big, broad miner while smoothing a crease on his sleeve. "Next?"

The brute mumbled a curse, and then took a step back. Artie stepped over the man he had knocked out and headed toward the bar.

Black Wolf and Jim, Colt in hand, joined him there.

Placing 10 dollars on top of the bar Artemus said, "It's for the food, the beds and to take care of our horses. Add to that a pot of coffee and a bottle of whiskey, two glasses and a cup."

The bald and chubby man behind the bar pocketed the bill. "We have stew with potatoes, and one room left with two beds." He gestured toward a boy standing beside the door. "Lead the horses to the stable Sam!" and the boy left the saloon. Looking again at Artemus, he placed a bottle of whiskey on top of the bar and then two dirty glasses. "So… newly commissioned officer at the fort?"

Pouring two glasses of liquor Artie shook his head. "No, I'm on a special mission." He gave a glass to Jim and drained his to the bottom. Jim followed suit.

Intrigued the barman sat a pot of coffee and a cup on top of the bar. Jim poured coffee into the cup and handed it to Black Wolf. "Coffee?"

Black Wolf sniffed the dark liquid beverage and took a careful sip. He had never drunk coffee. He made a grimace. "It's bitter, but good," he said.

Pouring two more whiskeys, Artie continued, "Yes, I'm on a special mission. I have to find some missing Crow children, I should say * kidnapped * Crow children."

The barman froze (and everyone else in the saloon did too, Jim noticed) – and Artie could read a series of emotions on the other man's red and puffy face: surprise, anxiety and mocking indifference. "Kidnapped Crow children? Really?"

Now persuaded that his intuition was right – again, Artemus nodded. "Yes, really." He had thrown the hook, now he had to wait for the fish to bite, he thought downing his second whiskey.

WWW

 _Later, in_ _a dingy but warm room_

Sitting on a chair beside the burning stove Jim looked at his best friend, sitting in a chair at his side. He smiled. "You decked that man splendidly," he said. "Remind me never to upset you. God! He didn't see it coming!"

Closing his eyes, Artie smiled. "You know that I wouldn't harm a single hair of your head, Jim." He yawned and stretched like an oversized cat. "If I'm correct, they're going to do something tonight – like trying to kill us in our sleep. Because I'm sure now that the children are here - somewhere."

Patting his partner's shoulder Jim said, "Time to go to bed, Major. You have nothing against sharing your bed with me?"

Standing Artie yawned again. "It won't be the first time. You take the first shift." He looked at Black Wolf sitting on the other bed. The Crow was fascinated by the pillow. It was the first time he had seen one. Using his knife he had cut the ticking and spread goose feathers everywhere on the bedcover. "How many birds did you kill and plucked to fill that big pouch?" he asked.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door – a discreet one. Jim immediately headed there and opened it, revealing a petite red-haired woman.

She smiled. "I'd like to talk to you. I have information about the Indian children," she murmured looked around her to see if she was alone.

Gesturing for her to come in, Jim stepped aside and she entered the room.

He closed the door behind her. "My name's James West, I'm a special agent of the Government. This is Major Gordon and Black Wolf."

The young woman smiled. "Nice to meet you. My name is Amy Davenport; I'm the barman's daughter. I was in the kitchen preparing food when I heard you talking about the children. I know where they are, in the mine gallery number 8, working inside." She frowned. "Erik Ullman, the man who owns almost all the mines here, uses them as slaves to extract gold. He's planning to kidnap children from the Lakotas too…"

Black Wolf was furious. He jumped off the bed and said, "Slaves! We have to go and free them! Now!" and he bolted toward the door.

Moving in front of the door Jim stopped the warrior, placing his hand on Black Wolf's chest. "Hold on! Not so fast. We have to think about all this first."

Miss Davenport put her hand on the door handle. "I have to go now, before my father wonders where I am. Be careful. Save those poor children… knowing they're in the mine, working like slaves, breaks my heart." Then she left in a hurry.

Closing the door Jim glanced at Artemus sitting on the bed pondering what to do now. "Trap or not a trap?" he asked.

The older man sighed. "I don't know, Jim, but I do know that I tend to be wary of women… Since several tried to kill us while leading us into a trap."

Jim nodded. "And what is your intuition telling you?"

Major Gordon stood. "To be very careful. We're in hostile territory here. But let's take a look at that mine shaft number 8."

Smiling Jim headed toward the window. "We can leave our room using the window, and the night is dark. They're not going to see us."

WWW

 _Later in mine shaft number 8_

The three men suddenly stopped in the mine gallery, hearing small scared voices – and children crying. Black Wolf's blood began boiling in his veins with rage.

Placing a calming hand on the Crow warrior's shoulder Artemus shook his head. "Calm down Black Wolf," he whispered. Then, his Colt in his hand he moved ahead, slowly, silently.

They reached a big subterranean room weakly lit by two oil lamps a few minutes later – discovering the children there. They were chained. They were scrawny, dirty, and their clothes were falling off.

Black Wolf rushed toward them – hugging one here and another one here, telling them they were going to be freed soon.

Frowning in worry, Jim said, "No guards? That's suspicious. I'm thinking about a trap. Do you think Miss Davenport planned all this?"

Artemus looked around him. "I would bet on that Erik Ullman. He probably owns everything and everyone here, our Miss Davenport too."

Impressed Jim said, "She's a good actress. Then she did send us into a trap…"

Suddenly there was a huge explosion. There was a loud deafening sound following the thundering blast and a split second later a huge crack appeared in the ceiling above them. There was a sudden cave-in and the children cried out in terror as heavy pieces of rocks and dust fell everywhere.

In a reflex gesture, Jim pointlessly brought his arms over his head and a big stone hit his left forearm – breaking it instantly. He let out a pained grunt sinking on his knees to the ground, the air knocked out of him, white hot pain radiating through him.

Several of them cascaded on top of Artie, smashing him to the ground, on his side, half-burying him. His cries of pain died in his throat.

The mine shaft gave one last violent shake and stilled.

The noise faded.

Enveloped in a cloud of fine dust, coughing, ears ringing, gritting his teeth, Jim crawled on the debris toward his partner's prone form, utterly still, wincing with each movement. "Artie? Artie?" he called with a raspy voice as tears spilled down his face, cleaning his irritated eyes. "Artie?" he tried again, very worried.

No response.

He paused half-way to his best friend's inert body, whose eyes were closed, looking as still as death, stayed still long enough to catch his breath then moved again.

He caught Artemus's limp hand then crouched beside his partner touching two fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. His best friend was still alive and he let out a sigh of relief. But he noticed a cut on the side of his head, blood trickling down his temple.

He slapped his face gently. "Artie, open your eyes, wake up buddy."

But Artemus didn't.

He managed to push the smaller stones off him but couldn't move a large, heavy one trapping his legs. "It's going to be alright, Artie," he said trying to reassure himself as a growing ball of anxiety was building in his tightening chest. "You're not going to die on me, right?"

He gasped and jumped feeling a hand land on his good arm. He looked up. "Black Wolf! You're alive! That's great! Are you okay?"

The Crow nodded, Blood dripping off of his nose onto his uniform sleeve. He touched his nose, wincing. "Not broken," he said.

Looking at Artemus again, Jim said, "Artemus is badly injured; help me to move that rock please."

Fortunately Artemus was unconscious when they did it.

Once the rock was gone from Artemus's legs, Black Wolf slowly and smoothly moved Artie on his back and used his knife to cut the older man's cavalry boots, pants and the bottom part of his long, warm, woolly underwear, to see the extent of the damage.

While the warrior did that, Jim looked at the children huddled together against a still intact rock wall, frightened and crying. Thankfully the lamps were intact. "How are they doing?"

Black Wolf moved aside the bands of bloodied fabric. "They're scared." He glanced at them and said something in his language. "I told them that we'll go away from here and return home." Then, frowning in deep worry, he looked down at Artie's legs. The right one had fairly sizeable gashes and bloody abrasions on it, from the foot to the calf, and the left one was already swollen and badly bruised. "It's bad."

Doing his best to keep rising panic at bay, Jim said, "Yes, it's very bad. I think both lower bones – the tibia and fibula – are broken but hopefully not displaced, so as to penetrate the skin from the inside." He observed the head injury barely discerning blood in Artie's dark hair and added, "He has a concussion and needs medical help, or otherwise he's going to die. I don't want to lose him." Distressed he brushed Artemus's hair matted with dust and tiny pieces of rock and added, "You're not going to die, Artie." He looked at Black Wolf. "We need to find a way out. We need to transport Artemus to Fort Brennan."

Black Wolf looked around him: the entrance to the mine gallery was obstructed by tons of rock and a few beams. It was impossible to go that way. "We're trapped here."

Suddenly a young boy of 10 years old headed toward Black Wolf and took his hand. "There's a well leading to the surface," he said.

He led Black Wolf there.

The warrior came back five minutes later, and knelt beside who Jim looking even paler than before with tears rolling down his dirty cheeks, leaving traces there. "Little Elk showed me the air well leading to the surface," he said. "I can easily climb up it. Once outside, I'm going to steal a horse and go to Fort Brennan to seek help. It should take several hours _for the outward-and-return journey_ _."_

Mopping his wet face with his sleeve Jim nodded. "Yes, do that… but I'm not sure that Artemus is going to survive that long…" He sounded desperate.

Black Wolf pressed Jim's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Don't worry. The One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above protects him. He'll survive. I will bring a doctor and soldiers with me."

He stood then headed toward the children who were grouped together. He spoke to them softly, reassuringly then he headed toward the still intact mine gallery leading to the air well.

Shivers of dread wracking his body, Jim rested his forehead on Artie's head, and he whispered, "I hope you're right."

Black Wolf nodded, confidently.

Artemus's lashes fluttered and his lips parted. "J'm…"

Tbc.


	5. Act Four

**THE NIGHT OF THE MISSING CHILDREN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

 _In the mine gallery, much later_

Suddenly Artemus jerked awake and immediately screamed, the searing pain of broken bone stabbing into his flesh.

He cracked his eyelids open groggily. Everything hurt. Through a blur he saw Jim's colorless face beside his. He drew a sharp breath. "God… Cold…hurts… Wha… hp'ned?" he croaked.

Jim shrugged out of his dusty coat and covered Artemus with it, and responded, "They dynamited the entrance of the mine gallery to trap us here, burying us alive and there was a cave-in. You were hurt, badly. You have a head injury and your right leg is broken. Black Wolf used an air well to leave. He'll come back with soldiers and a doctor in a few hours."

Eyes fluttering close Artie breathed, "Children?"

Looking at the children huddled together, Jim said, "They're fine. No one was injured." He looked again at his best friend. Artie was trying to move. "No, don't move."

Opening his eyes again, his vision foggy, Artemus whispered, "Help me… help me to sit up." Despite his own coat and Jim's coat covering him, he was shivering with cold sweat.

Jim shook his head. "You're badly hurt, that's not a good idea… you have a broken leg."

Gritting his teeth Artie let out, "I know that. But I don't want to die… with… my face in the dirt. Please." He took a sharp intake of breath readying himself from the coming atrocious pain. "Do it!"

Jim slid his right hand (he was cradling his broken left arm protectively against his chest) beneath Artemus's shoulders and pulled him somewhat upright.

The injured man pinched his eyes shut and howled as pain tore through his body. Then he grunted, a myriad of white spots invading his vision.

Slowly, in the gentlest way possible, Jim propped Artie up against a big rock. "Okay. There…" He reached up, cupping Artie's cheek and lifted the older man's head, swallowing hard as he saw tears streaming in his best friend's bushy beard. "You're going to be okay, Artie," he whispered, trying to reassure and comfort the other man, and himself too.

He placed his coat back on Artie's shoulders and noticed Artemus's eyes were glazed over.

Exhausted, hurting, Artie tilted his head back, whimpering in his throat, then he panted heavily like a fish out water, trying to remember how breathing worked. "No… I'm dying… half of the mine fell on my head… head trauma… bad," he said quietly, drifting into unconsciousness.

Then, his eyes rolled back in his head and he sagged against the rock, his chin resting against his chest and then went utterly limp and collapsed bonelessly to the ground, on his side.

Feeling tears well to his eyes, Jim shook his head. "No, you're not. You're not going to die Artie; the Great Spirit protects you, right?" But he received no reply. "And I protect you too."

Artie's face was deathly pale and his eyes closed shut. He was still, his chest wasn't moving. He touched his throat, feeling for a pulse… and found none.

He put an ear to Artie's mouth. He _wasn't_ breathing.

He gasped in dread. "No!" and shook Artie's shoulder. But the other man didn't react.

Panic rose up again sharp but he refused to let it take control of his mind, again. He drew in a slow, deliberate breaths, trying to keep calm and placed Artie on his back.

In a flash he pushed his coat off of Artie, unbuttoned his best friend's coat, and began loosening Artie's clothing which may interfere with his breathing (his jacket, his belt, his pants button, his tight collar) then he took position next to his partner, at the level of his face.

He moved his hand onto Artie's chin to bend the older man's head back, opening up the airway. After that he pinched Artie's nose closed and lowered his lips to his, breathing into his mouth for a few seconds and watching his stomach and chest rise. He continued the artificial breath until Artie stirred and convulsed suddenly, sucking in a breath, pulling fresh air into his lungs and then releasing it in a low, raspy whine.

Moving his head to the side, Artemus started coughing and sputtering. He pressed one hand to his mouth and started gagging.

Finally, he retched.

Once he was done, Jim hoisted his best friend into a sitting position and brushed his clammy cheek smeared with blood, dust and vomit wiping it on his pants. "You look like hell Artie…but you're back," he said, smiling broadly, immensely relieved.

Eyes fluttering open Artemus flicked his tongue over dry, chapped lips and he rasped, "Sorry… Feel like hell, hot, sick, dizzy, hurt so much … but I won't feel anything soon… 'm gonna die, Jim." He was taking deep painful breaths, and he was struggling to stay conscious. He lost and closed his eyes. "We've had a good run, but it's the end of the road… for me… Take care…," he slurred and his weakening voice died in his throat.

Not accepting that, Jim shook his head. "No you're not! You have survived far worse injuries in the past! It's not a head injury and a broken leg that…" Frowning angrily he shook his partner's shoulder. "Wake up! You're not going to die! I just brought you back! I'm not going to let you die, not now, not ever, understood? You have to fight! Don't die on me! Don't!"

Blinking, Artie felt his muscles grow weaker, tiredness and a numbness beginning to spread relentlessly through his body. "Can't… m' sorry…"

Cupping Artie's hot and sweaty face in his trembling hands Jim pleaded, "Don't do this to me. Don't leave me all alone… please." And felt tears rolling down his stubbled cheeks. He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. "Don't die Artie, don't! Hold on. I need you, stay with me!" he said.

Closing his eyes, Artemus could hear the blood pounding in his ears, could hear his heartbeat growing sluggish and he felt heavy. "Jim… forgive me… can't…"

He blinked slowly, confusedly; trying to figure out what was going on and after a moment realized that Jim was slapping his face, hard, relentlessly. He tried to stop him but was too weak to move a single finger. He made an annoyed sound and breathed, "Stop…"

His breathing slowed down, became labored, then it was almost imperceptible.

But Jim didn't stop. Keeping his broken arm pressed against his chest, he continued to slap Artie's face, again and again forgetting that he had a concussion.

It hurt him to hit the older man he loved like he was his own older brother (actually he was his blood brother) but he had to. Artie must stay alive, he thought.

He'd do anything to. Anything, like… And he began pounding his hand into his partner's chest hard enough to leave big bruises. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said seeing Artie grimacing in pain.

Suddenly Artemus grabbed Jim's wrist stopping his momentum and he croaked, "Enough!... Great Scot! I thought that you… wanted… to save me… not… beat me to death. Oh! It hurts!" He said after a hiss of pain through gritted teeth. He blinked twice as his eyes watered. "Owwww."

Moving back Jim grinned with a look of deep relief on his face. "You're back!" he scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. Then he waved an angry finger in front of Artemus's eyes. "Just don't do that again! Ever! You scared the life out of me!"

Nodding Artie smiled weakly, his eyes dulled with pain, body wrecked with intermittent shivers. "M' sorry Jim, it wasn't my intention. I'll do my best… I promise. Thanks for taking care of me."

Patting Artemus's hand Jim said, "Don't mention it. I don't want anyone else as my best friend, partner and brother. Everything's going to be okay now."

Eyelids fluttering closed Artie said, "I am less optimistic than you… I have a nasty concussion… head injury, my left leg is bleeding, my right leg is broken… Have a strong fever. Hurts a lot." And he blinked away tears of pain. "Feel sleepy… Don't let me sleep, could… I could-I could fall in a…. in a com-coma and never wake. A doctor… needs-eeds to see me before I slee-eep, okay? Have a head in-injury… okay? I don't feel so… sooo… great." His voice was low and slurred.

Moving closer to Artie Jim shook his arm. "Okay. Eh! Try to stay awake…" He had a sudden idea to keep Artie awake. Something he knew Artie couldn't resist: talking about his latest invention. "What about telling me about your latest experimentation?…"

Opening his eyes Artemus let out, "'Okay… err… what?" while struggling to focus on Jim, blinking several times in confusion. "J'm? What happened?"

Placing a hand on his partner's arm, for comfort, Jim said, "It's okay. What about telling me about your latest experimentation?…"

Blinking slowly, Artemus nodded. "'Kay… when-when I was in my lab, at… my mom's home, I invented instant coffee… But I don't know what to call it… soluble coffee, or coffee crystals or…coffee powder…" he closed his eyes.

Shaking Artie's shoulder Jim asked, "You were saying? Instant coffee? What for?"

Re-opening his eyes, his painful head throbbing in time with his wild pulse, Artie smirked. "So you can make good… coffee, finally," he said.

The younger man smiled and wiped the sweat off his forehead and took a couple of deep breaths. He too had a strong fever.

Artemus finally noticed that Jim was cradling his left arm against his chest, and that his face was strained, in an effort to push back pain. He could read it in his partner's stiff body and in his tired green eyes. "You hurt?" he asked, deeply concerned.

Smiling reassuringly, Jim said, "Yes, but it's nothing…"

Shaking his head slowly, Artie whispered, "No, it's… not. I know when you lie, Jim… broken arm?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, but it's nothing in comparison with your injuries… don't worry. " He paused and got back to the subject they had been talking about. "Instant coffee? That's a good idea. You could use coffee right now. You have to stay awake Artie. Tell me more about that instant coffee of yours." Seeing that Artie was drifting off to sleep Jim slapped his best friend's face, not too hard this time. "Focus, buddy."

Blinking slowly, Artemus said, "Er… instant coffee, yes. I thought that it would be a good idea… it's very useful… I used brewed coffee beans and I… don't feel good, I…" He stopped and his chin suddenly dropped on his chest.

Immediately Jim pulled Artie's head up. "Stay awake Artie."

Nodding faintly, Artemus let out, his voice a whisper, "I can't fall asleep till a doctor… till a doctor checks out my head injury…" He closed his eyes again. "So very tired… miss my bed, and my cat…" And his head started to list towards his chest. He tried lifting it and failed.

This time Jim slapped his partner's face hard, again. "I'm sorry. Stay awake, do you hear me? Come on, talk to me. You were saying about that instant coffee?"

Grunting, with great effort, Artie raised his head and pried his eyes open. He blinked repeatedly, his vision graying and breathed, "Very useful… easy to prepare, rapid to prep… are, dissolves instantly in hot water…" He suddenly clamped his mouth closed as nausea rolled through him.

He leaned to the side and vomited again – bile and saliva - emptying his stomach. After a couple of minutes of dry heaving, he rested his head on Jim's lap. "Going to die…" he heaved a long sigh and slumped to lean his head against Jim's shoulder. "Bye J'm."

Crying again, Jim started running small soothing circles on Artemus's scalp knowing that it calmed him. It always did.

He shook his head. "No, you're not going to die. I won't let you die buddy, you have to stay awake."

"I'm trying." Artemus whispered as a response.

"I know, buddy, but you have to try harder," Jim urged, desperate to do everything in his power to help his injured partner.

But Artemus was too tired to fight. His eyes were already drifting shut again, his brain fuzzy. "But instant coffee… can… spoil if not kept dry…" He went limp.

Feeling dread pool in his stomach Jim shook Artie, but he didn't wake.

He choked as a new wave of panic rose in his chest and he couldn't contain it this time. "No, no…" he croaked, devastated.

WWW

 _Much later_

Cries of joy welcomed Black Wolf's return and the children immediately encircled the warrior. Grinning he patted their heads with both reassurance and affection. "I'm here," he said. "I'm back! You're going to be freed soon."

Disengaging himself from the mini Crows, Black Wolf headed toward the two white men. He crouched beside a drowsy Artemus and said, "The soldiers have taken control of the town. The miners and the others are all prisoners. But bad news, Captain Gerrard commanding the company told me that it's impossible to clear the entrance of the mine gallery. Using dynamite would probably make the mine gallery collapse on our heads. We will have to go out from here by the air well by which I came out and returned."

Frowning Jim said, "Artie can't climb up to the surface, it's impossible. He can't even stand – and he's barely conscious. I thought he would never wake again. But he did." He looked at Artemus lying on his back, eyes open but glassy.

Black Wolf nodded. "Soldiers are standing outside, beside the air well. They made a harness they have attached to a pair of horses to lift Strong Bear and then the children safely to the surface."

The Crow Indian took Artemus's hand in his. "Strong Bear?" No reaction. Artemus kept staring at the rocky ceiling of the mine gallery. He placed his other hand on the older white man's shoulder and called out to him again. "Strong Bear?"

Finally Artie snapped out of his daze. He blinked a few times and then smiled at the Crow warrior. "Oh… 'ello, Black Wolf…"

Black Wolf smiled. "It's going to hurt, I know, but it's the only way…Use your good leg to push up." Pulling he heaved the older man up from the ground.

Sweating profusely Artie howled in pain but managed to get upright then immediately flailed as he had only one leg to stand on.

He had a sudden attack of vertigo. Everything became blurry and started spinning fast. He gasped. "Ooh… " he breathed as he started rocking backward and forward.

In a flash, Jim moved to his partner's other side, to support him. "It's okay, Artie, I've got you."

Artie grunted as the world whirled sickeningly for a few moments. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting a wave of nausea.

He fought back welling bile. "God…"

Black Wolf then hoisted Artemus on his broad shoulder. "Lieutenant Harris, the doctor from the fort is waiting for you up above."

Still feeling nauseous, Artie groaned. "I hope he came with strong drugs…"

WWW

 _Much later, in the infirmary of Fort Brennan_

Artemus Gordon opened his eyes – and regretted it immediately. He groaned low in his throat, like a bear discovering sunlight after a long hibernation.

He blindly grabbed a handful of the bedspread with his left hand as he suffered the pain that struck with every movement, and he covered his eyes with it. "Turn that blasted light off!" He growled his voice hoarse. "Blinding headache!" He touched his head wound, winced and found it bandaged. It was probably stitched, he thought – finally realizing that he was still alive. "Oh, thank God!"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jim chuckled. "Glad to see you've decided to rejoin the land of the living… I was thinking you were hibernating – something usual _for a bear_. And no one can turn off the sun, Artie."

Recognizing his partner's voice Artemus said, "Jim?"

Smiling Jim placed his right hand on Artie's. "Who else? You and I are stuck together till death parts us buddy, but of course without being married." He chuckled mockingly. "The Comanche should have called you 'Strong Bear Grumpy In The Morning'. It would have been perfect." He paused, frowning in concern. "But seriously, how do you feel, Artemus?"

His face pressed into the bedspread, muffling his voice, Artie said, "Like I'm alive, but with a long list of injuries and the mother of all headaches."

Feeling a bit guilty, even if he'd had no other choice but to slap Artie's face and pummel his chest to keep him awake, Jim nodded and said, "Add bruised all-over to that list."

Artie groaned. "What happened? I mean, after I passed out in the doctor's hands."

Pouring water into a glass, Jim responded, "Black Wolf built a travois and settled you in it. Then the doctor examined your head injury and it required six stitches. He concluded you had pretty severe concussion, and he's hoping there's no damage to your very hard ol' noggin'. After the doctor was sure that you wouldn't sleep in a coma, he dosed you with laudanum, and brought you to the fort. He gave you laudanum again before surgery. Your broken bones were perfectly realigned. Then the doctor wrapped your leg in a large bandage and fixed splints to it, to maintain your leg immobile. You don't have a plaster because with a plaster your wounds could become infected, he told me. With this system the doctor will be able to change your dressing as often as necessary because removing splints is easy. You've been sleeping on and off for three days. Because the major bones of the leg support your weight, the doctor said that at least 6-8 weeks is usually required before the bone is healed. But it may take longer for the ligaments and tendons to heal, so he said your leg will be immobilized for at least 10 weeks."

Pushing the bedspread out of his face, Artie blinked, wincing as the sunlight hurt his eyes. He squinted for a moment at the bright light coming from a window on his left before his eyes adjust. "That's just great! I'm going to be stuck in that fort in the middle of an icy nowhere for more than two months," he said grumpily. As he was lying directly under the bedspread, he noticed that his broken leg was wrapped in a bandage and immobilized with four splints and elevated on a couple of pillows.

He noticed too, that his chest was wrapped in a very tight band. Both leg and ribs were throbbing – and painful and the stitches were starting to itch. "What about the children?"

Bringing the glass of water to Artie's lips Jim said, "Black Wolf brought them home. They're back with their families and they're fine."

Artie smiled. "I'm very happy to hear that." Then he took a sip.

Jim continued, "Black Bear was so happy to have the children back – that he proposes to welcome you into his band during your convalescence, when the doctor judges it's okay for you to go to the reservation."

Pleased to hear that Artemus grinned. "It will be a pleasure."

Jim added, "Black Wolf and Red Eagle wanted to be your best friends, but I told them that that position was already taken, by me. Black Wolf replied that you didn't have Crow best friends, so his brother and he claimed that position. And I'm sorry to tell you that White Crow has someone in her life… a warrior called Red Fox, Black Wolf told me."

Now holding the glass of water Artie smiled and took another sip. "It's okay. I hope she'll be happy, she deserves it," he said. He pointed at his best friend's broken left forearm, wrapped in a cast and nestled in a sling. "You're okay Jim?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, I'm fine, and like you I'm going to have that cast for weeks." He suddenly sneezed three times in a row and sniffed loudly. "I may have caught a cold while fishing you out of that freezing river water." He shivered and added, "That's nothing."

Lifting his eyebrows in stupefaction, Artie said, "You? I thought you were never sick…"

Jim smiled. "There is always an exception to a rule. I'm okay, don't worry. It's just a cold." He sneezed again and using his free hand he pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. He blew his nose then put the handkerchief back in place. He added, "I sent a telegram to Washington to tell Colonel Richmond what happened. He sent me a message back shortly after telling that he was very happy at the success of the mission – and the President even more, because the peace wasn't broken. President Grant gave you a long medical leave of 6 weeks." He sighed, ill at ease and guilty. "The President asked me to come back to Washington to be at his side… he has several important meetings scheduled in the coming weeks, and I'll be protecting him. Fortunately it's my left arm that is broken, not the right one. I can still fight and use a gun." He sighed. "I don't like leaving you here, alone."

Sitting the now empty glass on the bedside table, Artie smiled. "Don't worry about me; I won't be alone amongst the Crows. You know my passion for Indians and for knowledge in general – I will learn a great deal with them. Besides, it's a direct order from Grant; you have to obey the President."

Jim nodded. "I know." He patted Artie's shoulder. "I'm glad it's over, and I'm even gladder that you're okay – I mean almost okay, I mean not dead, Artie."

Artemus said, "No, I'm not dead, but that was close. I almost died three times, 1. I was attacked by a mountain lion, 2. I drowned in an icy river, 3. I was almost crushed by rocks in a cave in… and I stopped breathing twice. Technically I was dead until you brought me back."

Jim nodded. "You're a magnet for trouble Artie."

Artemus smiled. "And so are you, James my boy. We're a perfectly matched pair." He winced as his cracked ribs and broken leg hurt more, the effects of the drug fading.

James smiled broadly. "I always thought so."

Artemus grabbed the edge of the bedspread with trembling hands, swallowing convulsively. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat. "Jim, could you ask the doctor to come here please, and quickly? Like now." He gritted his teeth. "Ow!"

WWW

 _Crow settlement, 6 weeks later_

Black Bear entered his grandsons's tepee and headed toward the group of children gathered beside the big fire, sitting cross-legged.

Black Wolf was sitting cross-legged too, in the middle of the circle of children, beside Artemus Gordon – also called Strong Bear. The other man was sitting on a buffalo hide chair he had made and his mending leg was resting on a pile of folded blankets. The two men were both sculpting animals in pieces of soft wood, under the admiring gaze of the girls and boys gathered there.

Black Bear stopped behind two little girls and like the children, he admired the two men sculpting figurines with ease and talent.

Smiling, Artie finished his small carving (an elk) first. Then he sat it on his lap and looking at the young boy sat beside him, he said, "It's for you, Little Elk. It's a present, to thank you. You showed Black Wolf the air well and doing that, you saved my life. Ahó, thank you." Then he offered the wooden elk to the boy, who grinned and pressed it to his chest like a something precious.

Little Elk said, "Ahó, Strong Bear, ahó. It's beautiful."

Black Wolf offered his sculpture to Artemus: it was a bear standing on its hind legs, with huge claws, jaws open wide, threatening. "It's for you, Strong Bear."

Taking it Artie smiled and said, "Ahó, thank you, Black Wolf."

Raising his hand an 8-year old boy asked in his own language, "Tell us a story, Strong Bear. A story with wild animals."

Strong bear smiled and in Crow language asked. "You want a story?" All the children nodded. Taking a beaded bag sitting beside him, on the buffalo fur on the ground, he opened it and pulled out three small carved animals: a tiger, a monkey and an elephant.

He smiled. "I knew that you loved stories, so I made these sculpted animals to tell you one.' He placed them in front of him and took the wooden tiger. "But first I have to present you the various characters of the story. This is a tiger, it's a large cat recognizable for its pattern of dark vertical stripes on reddish-orange fur…Tigers live in a country far, far away…"

Blinking in total surprise, a little girl said, "Orange fur?"

Tbc.


	6. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE MISSING CHILDREN**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _Two months later, at the White House_

President Grant smiled, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Welcome back to Washington, Artemus. You look… different. I like your new beard very much."

Standing in front of Grant Artemus Gordon reflexively touched his neatly trimmed beard. "Yes, Sir." Then he stood at attention again.

Ulysses S. Grant briefly touched his own full, graying beard. "And I'm sure that all the lovely ladies waiting for you for weeks will adore your beard, Artemus." He noticed the carved walking stick Artemus was using, leaning on it and frowned. "Are you still in pain?"

Artemus shook his head. "No Sir, my leg has healed nicely. I went to see Dr. Henderson at the Military Hospital before coming here, he examined my leg and told me that everything is fine, but I need a cane to walk because my leg is still fragile though. I had a double fracture, Sir."

The President nodded. "May I see your walking stick Artemus? It's beautiful."

Handing it to Grant Artemus said, "It's a present from Chief Black Bear, Sir. To thank me for having found the missing children. He carved it himself and then painted it. The pommel is a sculpted bear – a reference to my Indian name: Strong Bear. He offered it to me before I left the settlement."

Grant nodded. "It's a beautiful present, but I hope you won't have to use it again in the future, Artemus, because it will mean that you're injured again." He handed it to Artemus and then turned toward James West standing beside the large desk covered with many papers and files. He smiled and said, "Jim missed you a lot, son. He missed you so much that he spent these last weeks sulking. He has hardly spoken a word in two months and spent all his free time in the Wanderer instead of gallivanting from one reception to another like he usually does when he's in Washington. Half of the female population of the Capital worried a lot, and the other half wondered if you were still alive Artemus, because Jim and you are virtually inseparable." He chuckled. "It was time that you came back, Artemus, one week more and Washington would have had its first hermit!"

Glancing at his partner who was grinning, amused, Artie smiled broadly, amused too and said, "Jim and I will reassure the ladies next time we attend a reception together."

President Grant nodded and moved behind his desk before seating himself in his armchair. "Gentlemen, please, have a seat."

Before that the two agents smiled at each other and then hugged tightly for a long minute, patting each other's back, expressing their mutual brotherly love and pleasure in being reunited.

More than curious Jim asked Artie, "Did the Crows adopt you like the Comanche did? And did you get a new tattoo Artemus?"

Artemus smiled. "Yes, I was adopted by the Crows, and no, I don't have any new tattoos. But the children offered me beaded necklaces. I'll show them to you later."

Then they sat down on a chair.

Grant took a file that was sitting on his desk and opened it. "I read your report, Artemus. Things are back to normal again in the Crow reservation and the settlers have calmed down. The soldiers returned to the fort and the cattle I promised to Black Bear was delivered. You did a good job, both of you." He closed the file and asked, "So, tell me, how was your stay with the Crow Indians?"

WWW

 _Later in the Wanderer_

Looking at his reflection in the mirror settled on his lab table, Artie said, "I look old…" and he touched the few gray hairs in his beard.

Pulling up a stool beside his partner Jim said, "You look older, not old – even if you're older than me. " Then he sat on the stool and smirked. "Much, much older."

Looking at Jim Artie nodded. "Don't remind me. I am 15 years older than you – _my boy_." He sighed and glanced again at his image reflected by the mirror. "Helen McNeill hates my beard, you know? She said that kissing me would be like kissing the President – because I look like him now. So she refused to kiss me last night at the reception at the French Embassy."

Placing a comforting hand on his best friend's shoulder Jim chuckled. "Yes, you look like him, that's why Grant loves your beard so much, it's exactly like his."

Looking again at his face reflected by the mirror, Artie hmmed and said, "Do you think if I have it shaved off he'd be upset?"

Pressing Artie's shoulder Jim shook his head. "Grant will never be upset by you, Artemus. But If I were you, I'd keep it. It suits you and Miss McNeill will get used to it eventually." Grinning Jim stood up. "Besides, you look just like a bear with that beard, _Old Strong Bear_."

He chuckled when he saw Artemus scowl at him and heard a low threatening (bear) growl.

The end.


End file.
